


The Underground

by theredhoodie



Category: The Gifted (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Budding Love, F/M, First Dates, Heavy flirting, Holidays, Lots of Firsts, Tattoos, Weddings, light fluff, strip clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-07 20:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 28,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12848934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theredhoodie/pseuds/theredhoodie
Summary: In a world without super powers, Lorna is getting married to her college sweetheart, but not before her best friend, Clarice, throws her an unexpected bachelorette party. It's at a strip club named "The Underground" that Clarice meets the attractive bartender, John Proudstar, and shit gets crazy from there.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I originally was gonna have a tattoo/flower shop type of AU for Thunderblink, but then this idea sort of came out of nowhere and here we are!
> 
> I hope you can follow the storyline, and yes I made Sonia a reasonably good person in this because I needed her for the storyline and if she were human I definitely could see her being similar to this.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! It has way more fluff and flirting than I usually write. 
> 
> EDIT: This is definitely getting two more chapters!

Clarice had a permanent smirk on her face from the moment the limo let them out in front of the classy, yet windowless building with a huge neon sign proclaiming  _THE UNDERGROUND_  as its name.

When Lorna stepped out, a fluffy boa around her neck, a  _Bachelorette_  sash around her abdomen, she actually  _blushed_. Lorna Dane, blushing.

Clarice caught Sage's eye and her smirk spread into a grin. This was so worth it.

"Marcos is gonna kill me," Lorna said, though her blush turned into a tentatively excited smile as her eyes fell on the dark door and the man standing outside of it.

"He will not," Clarice said with a snort, knowing that Marcos Diaz had nothing on his wife-to-be when it came to who wore the pants in their relationship.

"Besides," Sonia said, slinging an arm around Lorna's shoulders, "Harry and Shatter probably have him drowning in strippers right now." Shatter was a nickname for Tyrone Brooks, Marcos's oldest friend. According to the stories, he'd gotten the nickname when he smashed a baseball bat to pieces over a rival school's statue after a particularly heated football game.

"Strippers," Lorna repeated flatly.

Clarice, sturdy in her thick black pumps, started toward the front door as the limo pulled away. "Do you not know what a stripper is, Lorna? Come on, we'll give you a crash course!" She flashed a smile at the bouncer and two minutes later they were inside.

It was the classiest joint Clarice and Sage had been able to find. They had booked one of the two private rooms in the back and already laid out the tab so they could start drinking immediately.

"This is stupid," Lorna said as the petite but muscular woman in all black showed them into the back.

"This is standard bachelorette party stuff," Sonia insisted. To the hostess, she blinked widely and asked, "So what's it like being surrounded by naked men all the time?"

The woman had some intense eyebrows. She stopped and turned to the small group of four. "I'm a lesbian," she said, before offering out an arm to the private room.

Clarice snickered and plopped down inside on the leather cushion, pulling Lorna down with her. Sage handed out the champagne already poured for them and Sonia ordered god knows what before joining them.

"What happens now?" Lorna asked, sipping her drink.

"We ordered a selection," Sage said, tilting her glass up like a small toast and downing most of it in one go.

Lorna laughed finally, the alcohol they consumed in the limo starting to warm her up and loosen her up. "It sounds like you ordered cuts of meat from a butcher!"

"Who says we didn't?" Clarice said with an undignified snort. She sucked down the very light bubbly and crossed her ankles, scooting to the edge of the leather booth. "We have every right to objectify men, so I hope you enjoy the shit out of this."

"It cost a fortune," Sonia whispered, leaning behind Sage's back toward Lorna.

"I make more on one chest piece than this whole night costs," Clarice said loudly, waving her nearly empty glass around.

Sonia rolled her eyes and Lorna jumped as the door near them opened. It was the hostess again, a tray of fruity, neon colored drinks in glasses of many shapes. Clarice snagged the one that was magenta like her hair. Lorna grabbed the one that looked like an appletini, Sonia the overly large pink one and Sage snagged the White Russian.

"To Lorna!" Clarice said, standing and lifting her glass. "To having a damn good time and to us girls."

The three others said something or other along the same lines and then the music started.

It sounded like a remixed version of  _Feeling Myself_.

Clarice sat down and drank, slipping her arm through Lorna's. "Loosen up, babe, you were never like this in college!"

"I didn't have a kid in college," Lorna pointed out as the lights dimmed and then small lines of lights showed up on the tiny stage in the room.

Clarice waved a hand. "Lauren is a great babysitter. Enjoy yourself!"

"You were my RA, Clarice! I thought you were supposed to be responsible!" There was a big smile on Lorna's face despite her words.

Clarice matched her friend's smile and gave her a kiss on the cheek and the private, one-man show started.

 

 

 

 

 

Clarice's face was hot and tight from the alcohol and the laughter. Somehow she didn't break an ankle as she slipped out after the show. There was another show to come, but they needed more drinks and Clarice volunteered to get some.

She walked down the dark, velvet hallway, her hand running along the wall until she got to the main room. The main stage was hosting a four-man show and from the looks of it, it was just starting.

Not able to stop herself from staring, she watched for a minute or two before she started making her way around the walls of the club to the bar. She kept glancing at the choreographed dances and found herself more impressed than anything.

She did well until she got to the bar, where she tripped, but caught herself on the chrome edge.

Clearing her throat, she flashed a smile and her eyes fell on the bartender.

He was…

Well.

He was far more attractive than any of the guys on the stage.

Clarice swallowed hard and tried to force herself to be just a little bit more sober. "Hi," she started small.

"Hello." Like everyone who worked on the fringes, he was dressed in all black, with his buttoned shirt missing the top two buttons and the sleeves rolled up. He had long enough hair to be pulled back, tan skin and dark eyes.

Thankful for the bar to hold herself up on, she hoped that her words came out as clearly from her mouth as they sounded in her head. "Shouldn't you be on stage?"

His lips twitched into a small smirk. "I'm head of security."

"Then why are you bartending?"

"The bartender is on stage." His eyes sparkled with humor.

The words sunk into her head slowly, and an embarrassed smile spread across her face. She glanced over her shoulder at the lights and the stage, the waves of yells and the occasional squeal from the females in the crowd cutting through the air. "Do you…" she paused, turning back to the bartender, "do you like being around naked men all the time?" She wanted to slap herself for using Sonia's line on him but it was the only thing she could think of since her mind was clouded by gin and vodka and liquor.

"This is just my night job," he offered, setting down the glass in his hand. "Can I get you something?"

Why had she come up here again? Her mind struggled through and she was saved by Sage's sudden appearance a few yards away.

"Clarice!" she yelled, somehow over the crowd.

Clarice turned around quickly and glared at Sage—well she tried, she mostly just looked confused.

Sage's breathless smile fell and her eyes grew wide. "Holy shit," she said, disappearing again.

"Friend of yours?" the bartender asked.

Clarice frowned. "Yeah…"

A moment later, Sage was pulling a totally wasted Sonia into the main room to the bar.

"Shit," Clarice heard the bartender hiss behind her.

Sonia struggled against Sage's tugging until she nearly slammed into the bar thanks to her stiletto heels.

"Wha—" Sonia spotted the bartender. "Johnny?"

The ground was definitely moving underneath Clarice's feet. She rested back against one of the stools—they looked like they were hardly ever used.

"Sonia."

"What are you doing here?" Sonia asked.

"Working."

Clarice resisted the urge to rub her eyes, not wanting to turn into a raccoon with smudged makeup. "You two know each other?" she finally asked.

"We used to date," Sonia said, her tone conflicting with her facial expression.

"That was a long time ago," John insisted.

Clarice dragged her eyes from Sonia to John and back again. She scrunched up her nose and stood up, holding onto Sage for support. While Sage, Lorna and Clarice met at college, Sonia had joined their girl group later in life, just a few years ago. There was a lot of Sonia's history that they didn't know about.

She certainly had good taste, that was for sure.

"Hey!" Lorna's voice cut through as she used the wall to walk toward her girls. "How could you leave me all alone? This is  _my_ party!"

Behind the bar, John frowned. "Lorna?" he asked it slowly, like he wasn't sure if he was thinking of the right person.

Lorna arrived at Sage's other side and slung an arm across Sonia's shoulders. "Yeah? Do I know you?" She squinted at him. "I feel like I've seen you before."

What was happening? Clarice tried to keep up with the unfolding scene, but her sobriety had disappeared the moment Sonia and Sage arrived.

John reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a thick sheet of paper folded in half. He unfolded it and laid it out on the table:

_You're invited!_  
_Marcos Diaz & Lorna Dane_  
_Will be tying the knot on_  
_October 3_ _rd  
_ _Save the date!_

"Shit," Sonia and Clarice muttered at the same time.

Lorna struggled with the paper, but recognized the gold lettering and frame around the paper. "Um…who are you?"

"John Proudstar. I grew up with Marcos."

Clarice turned to Sage and mouthed  _What the fuck?_  The situation kept getting weirder and weirder.

"Seriously?" Sonia snickered. "Wow."

"Yeah…wow." John shoved the invitation back into his pocket. "Well uh…congratulations?"

Lorna grinned. "Thank you! Can we have some more drinks now?" She took both Sonia and Sage's hands and tugged them back toward the back.

"Bye, Johnny!" Sonia yelled as she stumbled and straightened herself up thanks to the walls. Walls were great.

Clarice wanted to clear her throat or roll her eyes but feared either would make her puke so she just slowly turned back to the bartender with a cringe. "So…you're going to the wedding too?"

"Yeah," he said. He seemed to be dealing with all of these revelations thrown at him a lot better than Clarice was. It probably had something to do with her drunkenness.

"Are you going alone?"  _Shut up, Clarice_.

"Are you?"

Her brain stuttered. "I think so."

He half smiled again. "I guess I'll see you Thursday."

 _Just leave before you say something stupid_. Sober Clarice had some great advice, but drunk Clarice didn't always know when to listen. "I'm looking forward to it!" She looked away and cringed at her squeaky tone and started to walk away with a bit more dignity than the others had.

One minute later, she was in the back room once again. Everyone started talking over each other until the hostess brought another tray of drinks and some remixed music started again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarice jerked awake and instantly regretted it. Her head throbbed and the light coming through the blinds was the most evil thing she'd ever seen in her life. She rolled over and nearly onto Sage, who was mumbling to herself in her sleep.

A whole slew of questions flashed through Clarice's mind in about three seconds before the previous night came back to her.

Bachelorette party. Strip club. Lots and lots of drinking. A very attractive bartender.

"Shit," she muttered, slowly getting out of bed. "Sage. Sage!" She shook the other woman's foot through the covers.

"Five more minutes," Sage grumbled into the pillow.

Rolling her eyes, Clarice pulled on some sweatpants and walked out of her bedroom. She lived alone, but after last night, they'd crashed at her place after dropping Lorna off at her and Marcos's house. Sonia had taken the couch, but it was empty now save for Clarice's dog, Zingo. Clarice heard water running in her bathroom and shuffled over to the coffee maker. Zingo raised her head and watched her but made no move to go to her.

Once the coffee was started, Clarice sat down at the breakfast bar and rubbed her hands with her face. She didn't remember it, but she must have washed her makeup off last night because her hands didn't come away caked in foundation and eyeliner.

"I'm getting too old for this shit," she said to herself, waiting for the coffee to finish.

"Speak for yourself," Sonia said, walking out of the bathroom. She had been the drunkest of them all, yet she didn't look like she was suffering from a hangover at all.

Clarice glared at her. "How do you look so damn good after a night like that?"

Sonia sat on the other stool. "Good genes? Or…bad genes, I guess. It's in my family history." She waved a hand and then glanced over Clarice's shoulder as Sage joined them.

"I feel like shit," Sage announced, leaning against the counter and letting her head fall forward, her short hair falling forward into her face.

"You drank the least of all of us!" Clarice exclaimed.

Sage shrugged a shoulder. "I still feel like shit."

"God…" Clarice shook her head, decided that was a bad idea and then walked to the bathroom. She washed her face again, tried not to vomit and tied her magenta hair up on top of her head.

When she got back, Sage was pouring coffees and the three moved to the couch.

"How much do you remember?" Clarice asked, cupping her hands around the mug. Zingo had been kicked off the couch, but she settled down directly on Clarice's feet.

Sonia snickered. "Don't ask me. All I remember is feathers. And butts. A few of them. One of them may have been mine." She tilted her head upward in thought.

Clarice dragged her eyes over to Sage, expectantly.

"What?" Sage snapped.

"You're the only one here with a photographic memory, I know you remember everything," Clarice said. She motioned with her hand to get Sage to spill.

Sage sighed and tucked her legs under her. "We had fun. We drank over dinner, took the limo to the club and…it was good." She quickly lifted her mug to her lips.

"You're hiding something," Sonia said at the same time as Clarice said, "Oh no, something happened."

Sage took her time with her sip.

"Was it something with Lorna?" Sonia asked, voice laced with concern.

"No, no. Lorna is fine. I hadn't seen her so relaxed and drunk since freshmen year," Sage mused.

Well at least one thing went right last night. Clarice would never have been able to let it go if she'd given her best friend the worst bachelorette party ever. "So what  _did_  happen?"

Sage glanced between the two of them. "Okay. Clarice went to get more drinks and…there was a bartender."

"I mean, usually there is a bartender at a  _bar_ ," Sonia pointed out. Clarice nodded.

"It was John Proudstar," Sage said quickly.

Sonia's eyes widened. "Fuck. Are you serious?"

Little bits and pieces of drunken flirting and confusion filtered back to Clarice. "Who…who is that?" she asked.

"We…we dated. In high school. And college. It was an on-again-off-again thing," Sonia said, waving her hand around and then pinching the bridge of her nose.

Clarice turned to Sage. "How do  _you_  know about him?"

"I saw him in some photos on Sonia's Facebook." She tapped her temple. "Photographic memory."

"Did I do anything embarrassing?" Sonia asked.

"Not that I remember," Sage said.

"Did I?" Clarice blurted out. "I distinctly remember flirting with him." She glanced over at Sonia. "Sorry."

Sonia shrugged and sipped. "I don't  _own_  him. You can flirt with whoever you want."

Sage shook her head. "I mean…you were drunk but he seemed amused."

"You…you aren't telling us everything," Clarice said. She sat forward and poked Sage in the arm. "Do tell, lady of secrets."

Sage sucked in a deep breath and cupped her mug in her lap. "John's coming to the wedding."

Silence.

"What?" Sonia finally said.

"Apparently he and Marcos grew up together," Sage said with an uncomfortable expression on her face.

"No shit," Clarice breathed out, sitting back hard into the couch.

"What are the odds." Sonia bit down on her lip.

"Small world?" Sage offered.

Clarice closed her eyes and breathed in the dark coffee. She managed to piece together the night enough to remember what John looked like. Even through the hazy memories, he was downright  _hot_.

"We can only hope this won't be the most awkward reunion ever," Clarice said finally. Shaking her head and wanting to move on, she changed the subject. "So…about those butts."

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wedding was in the backyard. There wasn't really a church ready to host an odd mesh of Catholic and Jewish. They set up a modern version of a  _chuppah_  in the back and managed to fit almost enough chairs for everyone to sit. There were less than fifty people; friends, family, a bit of extended family. It was a nice crowd.

Lorna's older half-sister, Wanda, joined Clarice, Sonia and Sage in the morning as they got the bride ready. It was tough keeping Marcos and Lorna apart, especially with Aurora running from one parent to another all morning.

"I thought I'd be more nervous," Lorna insisted as Wanda put the finishing touches on Lorna's curled and twisted hair.

"I mean, you've been living together for years, you have a kid," Sage ticked things off on her fingers, "you've kind of skipped the honeymoon stage already."

Clarice swatted at Sage. "Stop being so robotic. You're excited, at least, right?" She moved to lean next to the full-length mirror propped up against the wall in front of Lorna.

"Of course," Lorna said with a smile.

"Our family holidays are gonna be chaos," Wanda chimed in. "In the best way, I mean."

"I'm not gonna spoil my speech but I've been waiting for you two to tie the knot since you saw each other across that bakery, complete with hangovers and sweatpants." Clarice grinned. She liked thinking about her college years. Her current life was pretty sweet, but she liked to remember that she had humble beginnings.

"Love at first sight is one in a billion," Sonia chimed in, finishing up her hair and straightening up.

Wanda was the maid of honor in a special floor length gown in charcoal gray. The others sported mismatched dresses of various dark grays; all knee length or a little shorter. Clarice had gotten into a fairly big argument with Lorna over her dress when they were looking. She'd insisted that having her full leg tattoo was going to ruin the wedding shots, but Lorna insisted on it. Her exact words had been, "I have green hair and my own tattoos. I don't think it's gonna make a difference. Plus, your tattoos  _are_  you, so I wouldn't want to hide them." Clarice had definitely shed a tear at that.

"I'm very glad I'm one of the seven people in the world who is proof of it," Lorna said, standing up and smoothing out her dress. It was white, of course, but very Lorna. There were metal accents, it wasn't fluffy or big in any way. A simple slender shape, a small veil, walkable heels. It was perfect for her.

"You look so beautiful," Wanda said, clasping her hands together.

Lorna smiled shyly, suddenly feeling like a child again.

Clarice walked over to the window covered in curtains and peered outside. The seats were all filled and it looked like things were about ready to get going. Just as she was about to retreat back into the room, she spotted  _him_. John Proudstar, the bartender from  _THE UNDERGROUND_  club. Her stomach did a somersault as if she were back in high school and she quickly shut the curtain.

As if in cue, Lorna's mother, Suzanna, knocked on the door and walked inside. The older woman instantly teared up.

"You look beautiful, my love," she said, sweeping her daughter up into a hug. "Are you ready?"

Lorna nodded. "Yes. Is everyone here?"

Suzanna nodded. "Follow me downstairs, we'll set everyone up and start the music."

The next twenty minutes happened flawlessly. Marcos stood under the  _chuppah_ , and the pairs of witnesses walked up together. Wanda and Marcos's younger brother, Jose as best man, Clarice and Marcos's older brother, Carlos, Sonia and Shatter, Sage and Harry. Next came Aurora with Suzanna, laying down clumps of flowers and being generally adorable like she always was. During the flower girl walk, Clarice somehow spotted John way the back, one of the few standing bodies near the back door. He gave her a smile, which she returned immediately.

Then the music started.

Lorna walked down the aisle beside her father, Erik. She looked beautiful, and Aurora wiggled away from Suzanna when she got almost to the stage. Erik grabbed the toddler and Lorna gave her daughter a kiss before handing her flowers to Wanda and joining Marcos who looked like he was about to start crying.

The ceremony was simple and sweet, ending in the breaking of a bottle and a long kiss. Neither sides of the family were quiet people, and they all cheered and cried depending on who it was. Afterward, the couple walked back into the house, Aurora on Lorna's hip and everyone stood and milled about. There was enough catering food for everyone to eat, but there weren't enough tables for everyone so they would have to stand or sit on the seats.

It was the only thing that they hadn't been able to figure out before the wedding date came crashing down on them.

"Nice tattoos."

Clarice jumped at the close voice, but once she saw who it belonged to, she instantly relaxed. It was John, looking quite similar to the last time they'd seen each other. He was dressed in black, though this time he had on a suit jacket and his shirt was fully buttoned.

"Thanks," she said, twisting her ankle and glancing down at the greys and blacks and pops of color. "I designed all of it. Some of my friends collaborated on it over a few years."

"Impressive." He had a glass in his hand that he sipped at.

Clarice should really head upstairs and help Lorna out of her dress and into something more comfortable, but she really just wanted to stay right there. The crews they hired were already moving the  _chuppah_  out of the way and making a larger space to dance on the stage there. There was only one table on the grass, but it was only big enough for the married couple.

"Fancy meeting you here," she said. "I'm sorry your first impression of me was drunk me."

"It wasn't the worst experience." He flashed another smile. "I'm John by the way. We were never properly introduced."

She glanced down. "Clarice," she said, shaking his hand. It was just as warm and strong as she anticipated.

"How long have you known Lorna?"

"Since college. We were roommates freshmen year and it just kind of stuck. You grew up with Marcos?"

"Yeah. I haven't seen him in a while. I was surprised he invited me, actually."

"Lucky me," she said under her breath into her glass of champagne. "I bet you can tell some great stories of little Marcos Diaz."

"Probably a few," he confessed.

"Did you leave your day job to come to this?" Clarice had talked a lot about having a wedding on a weekday, but Lorna had been insistent that they get married on the day she and Marcos first met.

"I did actually."

"And…what is that job exactly?" When had she moved  _closer_  to him?

"I run a community center for kids."

 _God_ , attractive and a heart of gold. "Oh really? Which one?"

Before he could reply, the crowd sort of erupted into cheers and hugs and exclamations as Lorna and Marcos reappeared.

"Hey, sorry, I'll see you later. Okay?" She touched his arm and slipped away inside, nearly walking face first into Carlos Diaz.

"Clarice, I was looking for you." The  _look_  on his face was entirely uncivilized.

She made a face. "You know, just because we walked down an aisle together does not give you the right to touch me or talk to me." She moved past him and made her way upstairs to grab her notes for her speech.

Seeing John and talking to him had rattled her. She had no idea why—sure, he was extremely attractive and didn't appear to be like most of the other assholes of his gender—and that was almost more concerning than the unbalanced feelings themselves. She could get over that.

Spending a few minutes upstairs in Lorna and Marcos's room, she calmed herself down with the last bit of champagne, glanced over her poorly written notes and was just about to head downstairs when Sonia walked in.

"Oh, sorry! I didn't know anyone was in here."

Clarice shrugged. "I was just getting my speech ready."

"You're nervous?" Sonia quirked an eyebrow. "You don't get nervous."

"I…" She and Sonia were not the closest of friends, but since she was the only one here… "I know you said me flirting with John Proudstar was fine and all but I mean I was drunk so if I flirt with him say…now, here, today, is that cool with you?"

"He actually showed up?"

That wasn't the answer she was expecting. "Uh…yeah. You didn't see him?"

"He must be avoiding me. I was…quite a bitch when I was younger."

Clarice bit her tongue. She'd seen Sonia's bitchiness first hand. "So…is that…"

"God, Clarice. You're a grown ass woman. Flirt with him if you want. It won't make things weird."

"Okay."

"Was that really what was bothering you?"

"Yeah. I have no idea why. It's like…God, I dunno."

"John has that effect on people." Sonia walked over to her and gave her shoulders a squeeze. "Now, get downstairs before Harry's bad jokes get awkward."

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was getting dark. More than half the guests had left already, but there were still people in the back and in the house. Aurora had gone home with Erik and Magda for the night to give the newlyweds at least a single night alone together.

Sage had left for a work emergency about an hour before and Sonia was busy eating up Carlos's toxic flirting. Lorna and Marcos were slow dancing on the dance floor. Clarice watched them for a few minutes, champagne in her hand, her shoes long taken off and tossed in a corner of the laundry room.

Once she realized she was being creepy, she went out to the front of the house. There was a small porch with two wicker chairs. She grabbed her black shawl on the way out and wrapped it around her shoulders before curling up in the chair, her legs stretched out, ankles crossed.

She took one deep breath, closed her eyes and then there was a knock. On the door. From the inside.

She frowned and leaned forward. John cracked the door open.

"Hey. Am I interrupting?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Just getting a little quiet." Technically, they could still hear the music from the back, but it had been turned down, so it was barely recognizable.

"Can I join you?"

She nodded. He sat on the other chair. It was a fairly nice evening. He'd lost his suit jacket somewhere and had returned back to the first thing she'd seen him wearing: shirt unbuttoned a little, arms rolled up, hair back.

She not so cautiously checked him out from under her eyelashes. "Did you get a chance to catch up with Marcos?"

"Heh. Sort of." John rubbed his knuckles of his left hand against his right palm. "After tonight I feel obligated to actually catch up soon."

"How long has it been? I mean, since you two hung out?"

"A long time. I think I saw him at a family Christmas years ago. Before he had his kid."

"That long? What happened?"

He looked over at her. "Nothing bad. We just drifted. When I got back from overseas he had a new life. I knew about Lorna but we never met before today."

Clarice nodded, rubbing her upper arms. "Was it weird?"

"Kind of. Not really. It was nice to see Marcos be in such a good place. He was…not in a good place the last time we were close friends."

"He  _was_  a wreck when Lorna and I met him. She helped straighten him out though."

"She seems like a good influence."

Clarice chuckled. "You could say that."

They sat in comfortable silence for a little while until Clarice caught John staring. At her. Well, at her leg with its twisting black and purple and blues.

She cleared her throat.

He startled. "Sorry. I was…"

"It's okay. I would show you the whole thing but the lighting out here sucks." She tilted her head back against the chair and looked over at him. "I just have to ask."

He met her eyes in the dim light. He had very nice eyes.

"Do you feel… _something_? Between us I mean. It's like…I don't know, some connection or…" She trailed off, realizing she probably sounded like a rambling idiot. She barely even knew who this guy was.

He watched her very carefully, as if she were talking about the answer to world peace or global warming. "I know what you mean," he said finally.

She actually laughed with relief. "You don't think I sound crazy?"

"Surprisingly no."

"Good. I didn't want to scare you away."

"I'm pretty hard to scare away."

The moment stretched out between them, that electricity all the romance books talked about actually zipping in the air between them.

The front door burst open and Carlos, Jose and Mr. and Mrs. Diaz came out, arguing in Spanish. Clarice settled back into her chair, the air around her still buzzing. Sonia followed them all a moment later. She was the only one to notice the two of them sitting there.

She caught Clarice's eye and gave her a small smile and John a small wave before walking down the stairs. Carlos grabbed her hand and they walked to her car.

"So uh…what was Sonia like when she was younger?" Clarice asked. She was dying to know, and who better to ask than someone who'd known her in high school?

John sucked in a breath through his teeth. "She was pretty much…a bitch."

Clarice laughed out loud. "No shit."

"I don't know what I saw in her. No offense. I know you guys are friends."

"She can still be a bitch."

John chuckled. And then he checked his watch.

"Have somewhere to be?"

"Just my night job."

She actually blushed a little at the thought. Mostly about her drunk antics. He'd said she was fine, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. "Right. Security."

"You don't believe me?"

"I do. I just find it interesting that such a handsome guy is working at a strip joint doing  _security_."

He smirked. "The boss only hires attractive people."

"Uh-huh."

He stood.

"So are we gonna meet up again?" She didn't want to come across as desperate but they had  _just_  concluded that something cosmic was happening between the two of them and she didn't want to lose that.

"Why don't we leave it to the weird connection that we have."

"You don't want my number?"

"I do. But, I want to see what happens without it."

She frowned. But he seemed pretty determined. It wasn't like she didn't know where he worked at night. "Fuck it. Let's see where this goes."

He wished her goodnight and went back through the house to say goodbye to the bride and groom. Clarice watched him go, but stayed out on the porch a little longer, lingering in the electric air just a little longer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It was five days after the wedding and Clarice thought she was going to go insane. It was Tuesday, so the shop was closed. Usually it was a good thing: it gave her time to work on commissioned designs and maybe draw for fun or work on some new flash art, but today, she found herself jittery and off kilter.

Currently, her hair was piled on top of her head, kept there by three different pencils, her feet were bare, she was wearing a pair of ratty old shorts and a sweater two sizes two big. Her shop was empty, and she was tucked away in the corner at her work desk, tapping her feet and singing along with the k-pop bops blasting out over her speakers.

She couldn't concentrate enough to work on any of her big projects, so she decided to work on new flash pieces. So far, she'd made a few butterflies, some flower clusters, and a few more abstract ideas.

Chewing on the end of her pencil, she tried to decide what was missing from her current piece when she heard a faint knock over the music.

She ignored it.

And then she heard it again. She turned down her music a little.

Frustrated at people not knowing what a "CLOSED" sign meant, she squinted through the tinted windows at the shadow and stomped over to the door.

"Hey, asshole, can you re—"

It was John Proudstar.

"Hello to you too."

She wanted to be cross, but it was honestly impossible to stay angry at a face as nice as his. When they'd parted ways without exchanging numbers she'd been sure that they'd never see each other again. That was about sixty-five percent of the stressful jitters she'd been dealing with since the day after the wedding.

Yet, here he was, like it was fate or some shit.

"Sorry. I…What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"You never told me that you were a tattoo artist, y'know? That made tracking you down harder than expected." He glanced behind her at the pristine shop, done up in white and purples. "I eventually caved and asked Marcos."

Clarice flushed a little. "You wanted to see me that badly?"

"Yes."

She thought about it for a moment before stepping aside and letting him inside. "To be honest, I probably would have gone to the club soon to find you too. So at least we're on the same page." She shut and locked the door behind her, sealing them in.

This was the first time they'd actually been completely alone. And she felt like a teenager. It would have been incredibly annoying if it wasn't such a pleasant feeling to let wash over her.

"This is a nice place," he commented. It was clean and bright, unlike a lot of shops. There were three chairs with stations, with a private room in the back. There were a number of chairs and even a couch for waiting or post-tattooing recovery.

"Thanks." Clarice was infinitely proud of how far she'd come. She owned her own tattoo parlor for fuck's sake. She had an apprentice! She mostly worked alone, but a few days of every week another of her tattoo artists friends would come and use one of the other chairs. She was still figuring out how many people she wanted to involve in her business while still keeping it  _hers_. "It's kind of my pride and joy."

"I know the feeling."

"We got interrupted at the wedding before you told me which community center you run," she mentioned, leaning against the small white counter that her receptionist usually worked at. She only had one, and Alison Blaire only came in on the days when it was expected to be busiest.

"Verde Community Center," he replied, running a hand through his hair. Which was loose and lovely. Clarice wanted to run her hands through it.

"No shit, really?" She'd heard of the place. She still kept in touch with her last foster family, and they often had their kids go there after school and on the weekends. "Some of my foster siblings go there."

"Small world." His eyes caught the framed diploma above her desk in the corner. "You went to college?"

"Yeah." She rolled her eyes. "I know, I know, how did a foster kid afford college? The truth is I'm still in debt up to my eyeballs but I'm getting to do what I love and people respect my talent so that's all that matters right?" She'd slowly moved over toward her desk, which was a bit of a mess, scattered with sheets of thin paper sporting fast and easy designs that she could tattoo within minutes on anyone who wanted it.

"Right." He said it earnestly too, as if she didn't already have a  _pro_  column for him that was two pages long.

"So…" She leaned back against her desk, very aware of her messy appearance. He looked…well, normal. Jeans and green shirt under a dark canvas jacket.

"So," he echoed, standing close enough for the hairs on the back of her neck to stand at attention. "Can you tattoo me?"

Not what she expected. "Um…do you want me to?"

"I've been toying with an idea."

"Oh?"

"I know you're closed. I assume for a reason, but since I'm here…"

"What is it? Your idea."

"A thunderbird."

"From like, myths?"

"You know about that?"

"I studied art, my friend. We covered all forms, from many cultures." She moved away from him, regrettably, and sat down, nudging out the stool for him to sit. She had a tablet there, which she quickly used to Google. There were a few stick drawings called petroglyphs on rocks, and ornately carved totems. "What sort of design were you thinking?"

"Wow, okay. You're really getting behind this." He sat down and watched her skim through photos. "Simple, I guess."

"Okay. Like…an outline or a simplified totem?" She was already grabbing a clean sheet of paper.

"Outline. Something streamline and simple."

"Hmmmm." She tapped a pencil against her chin and then nodded as the light bulb came to life in her head. Using just a corner, she sketched and shaded in a small idea that she thought might work. She showed him and they spent a few minutes going back and forth until they got it just right. It was just a block design with a little bit of shadow to create some depth; very different from her usual style, but it would be easy to do.

"I didn't expect so much enthusiasm," John confessed as she smoothed out the paper and stood.

"You're asking me to tattoo you, aka my passion." She grabbed a flexible fabric ruler. "Where do you want it?"

He took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt on his left arm. Her eyes skimmed over the tattoo on the other arm and naturally lined them up.

"You were in the…" She couldn't remember what  _Semper Fi_  was attached to, so she said the least offensive thing she could think of, "army?"

"Marines."

She measured his bicep—with the total necessity of pressing her fingers against and around and all over his muscles because she was delighted that she had an excuse to do so—and nodded. "Is that what made you and Marcos fall out of touch?"

"Sort of. He moved away before our last year of high school. We kept in touch as much as kids do."

"Is that why Marcos and Sonia never knew each other?" She sat back down and grabbed her metal ruler to create the design by hand. It was a geometric shape that would have been easy to make on her tablet, but she liked creating stencils by hand.

"Yeah. He moved away when she moved to town."

"Handy," she said, glancing up at him with a little smirk.

"Everyone went off to college and I went off to the Middle East. I guess that's why I felt so out of place at the wedding."

"You felt out of place? You must have known Marcos's family at least."

"I did."

Outlines were so easy. She was already almost finished.

"It wasn't the same though," he added. "But now that I'm suddenly in the middle of things again, I can make some new old friends."

"And new, new friends," she said, cutting out the outline and showing it to him.

"Yeah, that looks good."

She checked the size against his arm, making sure the shape of his arm wouldn't distort the straight lines. She based her design on what the shadow of a totem would look like, so there was no intense detail like her usual work, but there was no way that she was going to turn down tattooing him.

"Are you ready for this?" She met his eyes and he nodded.

Five minutes later, the stencil was on, she'd changed into a tank top—she always kept spare clothes in the back—so that her sweater sleeves wouldn't get in the way, and he was sitting in her chair. She had three cups of black ink on the table.

"I'm not gonna cut my charges just because I like you," she told him with a playful smile.

"You like me?" he asked with mock surprise.

She scooted her chair closer to him and moved the tube connected to her gun so it wouldn't get in the way. Her eyes flashed up to meet his. "Ready?"

He nodded and she started, setting needles against skin in the soothing sound that some people hated. She didn't know  _how_  someone could hate such a satisfying sound, but to each their own. John made no comment on her k-pop playing in the background.

"Tell me about your tattoo," John said.

She was starting with the inner outline, and then the secondary one before filling in the middle. It would be easily done in under an hour because of how simple it was. "I would but you'd have to see all of it for it to make sense."

He arched an eyebrow. "How much more of it is there?"

He already saw more of it today than at the party, since her bridesmaid's dress had gone to her knees and her shorts today barely covered her ass. She paused and lifted up the side of her shirt, showing the ending part of the tattoo culminating at around her second rib from the bottom. She tugged her shirt down and dipped her needle before going in again.

"Damn. How long did it take?"

"I lost track of the hours. It was a long time."

"And you designed it? I always wondered how tattoo artists feel about copying someone else's art."

Clarice shrugged. "It depends. Copying someone else's tattoo is far worse than copying other forms of art. Obviously there's flash work, but that's still originally drawn by the artists." She paused and pursed her lips. "It's a hard line to pin down."

"That makes sense."

"Does it? I was just talking out of my ass." She chuckled and quickly finished the secondary outline.

"Then I applaud your ability to bullshit answers on the spot."

"I was a very lazy student, so I learned."

They fell quiet then, into that comfortable silence that filled the air with  _sparks_. Clarice started filling in the inner outline, working within each wing and slowly making her way to the middle.

It took much less time than John was expecting if his surprise was anything to go by as she cleaned off the extra ink and rusty blood from his arm so he could check out the finished product.

Clarice sat back, gloves still on and inkstained, a pile of black paper towels next to the messy ink cups. "Tell me you don't hate it."

"I don't hate it," he replied on cue. Meeting her eyes, his expression softened. "Thank you."

She fidgeted on the seat and set down the gun, taking off her gloves and getting to her feet. She stretched her arms above her head, her bare feet enjoying the cool tile floor as she walked over to the welcome counter. She always tattooed in bare feet; she found it easier that way. It was one of the least weird quirks she'd found in the world of tattoo artists.

"All right, time to pay up." She calculated an accurate estimate in her head. "One-seventy-five."

"That all?" He pulled out his wallet.

"I mean…a tip is always nice." She held out a slender hand.

He surprised her by handing her $175 in cash.

"Who the fuck carries that much money around with them anymore?" she muttered, counting it out on the counter.

"I find it keeps me on my toes."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "In case of what? A mugging?" She shook her head and muttered " _Crazy_ " under her breath.

Once the money was safely tucked away, she leaned against the counter. "And what about that tip?"

He leaned against the counter, too, bringing their faces close. "Can I make a counter offer?"

"Depends on what it is."

"Let me take you out. An early dinner, late lunch."

"Oh, how romantic. Why not a real dinner?"

"I have work."

"Oh yeah.  _Security_." She implied air quotes with her tone alone.

He laughed. "You still don't believe me."

"You should take it as a compliment!"

"I think you just want to see me naked."

"Of course I do, but that's beside the point." She bit down on her cheek after the words had already slipped out.

Luckily, he just laughed again. It was a nice sound.

"Fine. Dinner-ish. I'll take it. But I can't go dressed like this." She moved away from the counter and toward the supply closet. "Want to pick me up in an hour?"

"Does this mean I get your number?"

She ripped some tape with her teeth. "Yes. Now stand still." She expertly covered his tattoo and taped it so it would stay.

"Good. I was an idiot not getting it at the wedding." He watched her spend a little too much time touching his arm but didn't stop her.

She shrugged. "You just wanted to see if fate was a thing. I can dig it." She flashed him a smile and held out a hand. "Phone."

He handed his over and she added her number to his contacts. When she hit  _save_ , her stomach flipped like it was a happy dolphin and she hoped her face did not show the teenage giddiness that was going on underneath her skin.

"Thanks," he said, tugging his phone out of her hand. She held on a bit harder than necessary and pulled her toward him. It was totally purposeful and they both knew it, but they let it happen anyway.

"My apartment's at Jones and Birchwood," she said.  _God_ , did he smell divine.

"Great. See you in an hour." His smile definitely had some sort of hypnotic powers.

They lingered close to each other for another beat or two before he stepped away, grabbed his jacket and walked out, but not before looking back over his shoulder at her. She gave him a smile of her own and then he was gone.

Clarice had no idea what she was doing, or what was happening here, but she liked it. Now all she needed to do was look like a bomb ass bitch in an hour. Why the hell had she given herself such a short window of time?

Cursing, she tugged on her sweater, shoved her feet into flip-flops and tore out of her tattoo shop like a tornado was on her ass, hoping that John wasn't near enough to witness her crazy run down the block and around the corner to her apartment.

"You can do this," she told herself as she walked up the stairs to her second floor apartment. "He's already half in love with you."

Her personal boost brought a grin to her face and she squared up her shoulders and got to work the second the front door closed behind her.

Time to rock his world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Clarice have a successful first date, ending in John mentioning how he'd like to take things slow. Clarice agrees. There's just one problem...Clarice isn't good at taking things slow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a sort of different plan for this chapter, but once I was writing it, it sort of just grew into it's own thing! 
> 
> I hope you like it. I know this is slightly unlike tv!Clarice, but I thought it was a good idea so *shrug*. I needed a bit of drama to make this fic worth while!

Why the fuck did Clarice only give herself an hour to get ready?

By some miracle, she managed to pull herself together in time. She took the quickest shower followed by thirty minutes of trying to dry her hair, giving up and just braiding it messily so when it dried it would stay put and not look terrible. She had music blasting the whole time and Zingo was following her around the apartment like she was a puppy again.

She barely had enough time to put on the lightest amount of makeup before she had to choose an outfit. Standing in front of her closet, hands on hips, she tried to remind herself that it was the middle of the day, but her eyes kept falling to Date Outfit #1, her go-to because it was sexy and relatively easy to remove.

Heaving a sigh, she bent down and scratched Zingo's ears before stepping forward. "Why mess with an oldie-and-goodie, right girl?" Stepping forward, she grabbed the skirt and top and exchanged her robe for them.

The soft rose pink skirt was some kind of pleather—Sage wouldn't allow any of them to buy animal products, even accidentally, and she knew all the best places to find the best clothes—with a small split in the back and it rose to a high waist, settling just above her navel. She  _could_  walk in it, but she definitely couldn't run in it. Luckily, "early dinner, late lunch" didn't usually involve a lot of running. The top was her favorite cozy, black, long sleeved cropped sweater. The neck was wide enough to pull over her face and hair and not mess everything up.

Clipping on the thin chain with a shooting star pendant that was her only connection to her birth parents, she heard her phone ring in the other room.

"Shit," she hissed through her teeth. Avoiding her typical date stilettos, she grabbed her sturdy black pumps instead, hooking them over her fingers as she made her way to the living room. Grabbing her phone off the couch, she opened the screen. A message sat there from a number she didn't know.

_I'm here._

Just as she was about to add him quickly to her contacts, her phone vibrated again.

_This is John. By the way._

She laughed out loud, causing Zingo to bark at her. She ruffled her dog's hair and pulled on her heels. Her ears rang when she turned off the music. "Be good, Zingo! I'll take you on a super long walk when I get home."

She grabbed her date purse—small, black, big enough to fit her phone, some cards and money and a single house key—and headed downstairs.

John was waiting at the curb, leaning up against a moderately nice looking gray car. He hadn't changed since she saw him last, except that his hair was pulled back. She even heard his arm crinkle when he saw her and straightened up.

She didn't do subtly well, considering she was dressed for an after-dark sort of date, or like she was a celebrity going for a run to the grocery store knowing paparazzi would be around. Either way, John did a double take when he saw her, his surprise and interest plain to see on his face.

"Wow," he said, eyes roaming.

Clarice grinned. "Compliments  _and_ you're on time. I'm not used to this kind of treatment."

He laughed, his eyes finding her eyes. "I'm not sure if I should be glad or concerned with your low standards."

She paused in front of him and shrugged a shoulder. "I wouldn't hurt yourself trying to figure it out." She took a step closer. "Ready? I've got to be back to walk my dog at five."

"You have a dog?" He moved to open the door—who opened doors anymore?!—for her.

"Don't sound so surprised, I have many layers." She slid into the passenger seat and spent a moment closed off in silence before he joined her.

"I should have asked before," he said as he started the car. "Do you have any preferences about where we eat?"

She shook her head. "If it is edible, I'll eat it. I've never been picky. I do like a good soup though," she added thoughtfully.

"Soup?" He looked at her with a hesitation she wasn't used to receiving from guys.

"Uh…yeah. Anywhere is fine though. Dealer's choice." She clutched her bag in her purse, trying to tell herself to tone it down, but it was so hard when her default setting was sass.

Five minutes later, they were parked at a half-fancy, half-new-age-chic sort of place that looked like it sold everything from grass fed burgers to  _healthy_  chocolate cake. It had a neat aesthetic feeling, and Clarice was impressed at John's choice. Granted, she lived and worked near the college, so most of the places around were young and new and hip.

She didn't even feel overdressed. No one inside looked shabby, but no one was in ball gowns, so she settled right in the middle.

After being seated, she accidentally opened the heavy menu a little louder than expected and winced. "Sorry."

He made a no-apology-necessary gesture and opened his a little slower.

"Do you mind if I get a drink?"

"It's three-thirty."

"Is that a yes?"

"No, I'm just surprised."

"I swear I'm not an alcoholic," she said quickly, realizing that every time they'd seen each other she'd been drinking, except for when he came into her shop. She bit down on the inside of her cheek and shook her head. "Wine mellows me out. I was gonna drink some for your sake."

"My sake? You think I can't handle you? Ouch." He put a hand to his chest, though there were just enough flirtatious vibes coming off of him for her to see that she hadn't completely offended him.

She shrugged. "You've only had me in small doses so far. Just you wait."

The waitress came over a few minutes later and they gave in their moderately priced meal and non-alcoholic drink orders. Once their table was cleared, Clarice crossed her arms and sat forward. It was a flirting 101 move except that she had a very small chest and her sweater was cut with a wide neck, not a low one, so even if she had cleavage to show, it wouldn't. Still, it was a comfy position and brought her closer to him anyway.

"So, we can skip all the get-to-know you chit chat." Her words tumbled quickly out of her mouth, as if each one was wrestling with the next to get out first. "You know what I do, I know what you do. We have that whole complicated friends-slash-history thing with Marcos and Sonia."

He sat forward too, folding his hands together atop the table. "Not to mention our own…what did you call it? Weird fate thing?"

"Yes, that." She smirked, enjoying being close to him, but thankful for the public setting that forced space between them. Her head was certainly getting ahead of herself already. "You know I have a dog."

"I live alone," he offered.

"You should get a dog."

He grinned. "Maybe. Am I ever gonna get the story of your tattoo?"

"Depends on how long you stick around for. It's quite… _intimate_." She grinned to match his.

The waitress interrupted to place down their drinks, then scooted away quickly as if not wanting to have any part of the showdown that was going on.

John sat back and took off his jacket.

"You're crinkling," Clarice mused. His sleeve was tugged down but most of the tattoo was below that and her wrapping was there, black and taped on.

"What can I say, I made an impulsive decision today."

"Two of them, actually. Maybe three."

"Three?"

She ticked them off on her fingers. "Showing up at my work. Getting a tattoo. Asking me out."

"Three it is."

"Go big or go home, so they say."

"I always wonder who 'they' is when people say that."

She tilted her head to the side. "The proverbial they.  _They_  do and don't exist. Or! Maybe they exist but on a parallel Earth that is the template for our Earth. So we get all of our phrases and fads through this template. They get the test runs and we get the final product."

John raised his eyebrows.

"I read a lot of sci-fi and I watch a shit tone of History Channel shows with that alien specialist who is always high."

"You are something else," he said with a mixture of awe and amusement.

Clarice smiled, a bit more with her eyes than with her mouth. "Thanks."

"Do you always run on this speed?"

"Yeah. Hence the wine. I can still order some if you're already exhausted."

"I don't mind."

"Good, because I could do this all night."

"I have work."

"And I have a dog to walk. Filed under 'things we already know'. Moving on."

"You told me how you met Lorna. How'd you meet Marcos?"

"Did you hear my bridesmaid speech at the wedding? I was there when the lovebirds met. Imagine this…10AM on a Saturday after a smashing Friday night of freshmen drinking. Everyone looks like hell and is wearing pajamas. Most of us took a bus to town to the local breakfast bakery shop. It's full of people since it's Saturday morning. The locals over the age of twenty-five keep looking at all of us like we're demons. Which, given what I remember about freshmen year, may not be that far off base. Anyway, we're standing there in a line that takes up every inch of space possible for standing, and someone at the front yells  _I DON'T WANT PEPPER OKAY_  and obviously everyone looks at the counter to see who's getting their panties in a bunch over a little black pepper and Marcos is there standing next to his roommate who's livid over a few specs of a god damn  _spice_. Lorna was instant heart eyes and  _they_  definitely had some fate shit going on because he looked over and I swear I saw cartoon hearts float between them. It took like an hour of fighting for our food until we could eat. There weren't any tables so we stood outside like half a block away and Marcos pops up with his roommate, who's a little less yell-y and it was so cute that it was disgusting honestly. They were eighteen and flirting like eighteen year olds do. They were all shy giggles and terrified looks to me and Marcos's roommate and none of the aesthetic and tantalizing conversation like us."

Her words ran a mile a minute out of her mouth, but he somehow kept up.

"I didn't realize we were flirting." Deadpan face.

"I'm not trying hard enough then." Knowing it was a bad idea but doing it anyway, Clarice lifted her leg under the table, and somehow managed to place the toe of her shoe on the very edge of his seat, between his legs. She pushed him back half an inch.

The look on his face told her that if he'd taken a drink of his water he would have choked on it.

"I uh…" he stuttered around until the food arrived half a second later.

"Saved by the bell," Clarice sighed, crossing her legs under the table and turning half of her attention to her meal.

Shoving food in their mouths slowed the conversation enough where John could actually take a breath and Clarice could have a talk with herself about reeling it in a bit.  _Maybe this is why you only keep a guy for a few months at a time_ , her evil, knowledgeable self told her present self.

For some unknown, cosmic reason, she wasn't ready to just dive in and let things fall apart within a few weeks with John. He was…different. As cheesy as it sounded. There was something there that she hadn't experienced before and she was feeling selfishly like she deserved to have it all.

Conversation teetered down and she even let him talk a little bit. He told her a story about one of the strippers—he called them  _dancers_ , but they both knew he worked around nearly naked men gyrating to remixed pop music—that made her actually snort into her drink, which normally she would find humiliating, but he laughed, not unkindly, and she let it slide.

By the time the check came, Clarice was successfully full and her mind was whirling onward to bigger—probably—and better—compared to past experiences—things. The voice came back again to tell her to chill the fuck out. She only half listened.

They didn't linger in the car, which was good, though she stood very close to him on the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. "So. You wanna come up?" She had no idea what time it was, and it was still daylight, but she had no clue how else to end a date. It was an automatic response.

John raised his eyebrows a little and checked his phone for the time. "I can spare a minute," he said.

She grinned and grabbed his arm, dragging him inside. She took him up the stairs and paused in front of her door to get her key. Unlike most dogs, Zingo always hid under Clarice's bed whenever the front door opened, so there was no white and black ball of fur to stumble over as she took a step inside and hung her purse up on the hooks on the wall next to the door.

"So, this is my place," she said, taking a few steps in and turning around to face him. She had a nice place, though it was small. It had two whole walls of windows that let in a lot of natural light for working, and currently there was no need for any lights because the sunlight illuminated the space well enough.

"Nice," he said, nodding his head and glancing around. "I don't see a dog, though."

"She's shy," Clarice said. She took his wrist to get his attention. "Come with me."

He hesitated for a moment, but followed. She dragged him to one of the two doorways in the entire place. Not her bedroom, but the bathroom. She flicked on the light and turned toward him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Not to spoil the mood, but you've really got to wash that tattoo of yours," she said, thankful he'd left his jacket in the car. "I can't just turn off the tattoo artist in me."

He relaxed, letting her small hands slid around his arm and carefully peel off the wrapping. "What're you talking about?" he started. "This is how I end all of my dates."

She rolled her eyes and swiftly and efficiently cleaned the fresh tattoo. She had plenty of experience in the matter so it was as natural as breathing for her: how much pressure hurt too much, how little pressure wouldn't clean it thoroughly enough, the works. By the time she was done, it had only take two minutes tops. She wrung out the cloth she'd used and then dried off her hands.

"There. I can stop worrying now."

"Do you always give such personal service to your clients?" His hand fell to her waist, a few fingertips brushing her bare midriff.

Clarice smirked. "No, but I like this hands on approach." She moved a bit closer, letting her forearms rest against his chest, her hands lightly pressed over his shoulders.

John shrugged a shoulder. "It's all right."

She started to complain, but his hands were suddenly on her face and they kissed, long and soft and  _new_. First kisses were always something else for Clarice—usually awkward, actual clacking of teeth together, or wrong angles, or something else she tired to forget—but this was actually  _nice_  and made her insides lurch in a completely overwhelming and intense way.

They kissed and kissed and their hands made their merry way over arms and necks and hips and waists. John's hands were solid and warm against her sliver of skin between skirt and top, and his fingers slipped under the hem of her top when he pressed her against the sink with his hips.

Clarice let out a tiny noise of surprise and encouragement. His skin was so nice against her skin and she would be totally okay just making out with him for a few hours, but just as his hands roamed farther upward—she was all skin under there, she hadn't put on a bra for the date because she owned only one of them and that was only there if she wore a white top—he stopped abruptly and stepped back. Her hands grappled to catch him again but only managed to snag the edge of his shirt.

"What's wrong?" she asked, forcing her mind to focus on the moment. It was easy to do when she saw the expression on his face. He actually looked a bit shaken up. "Are you okay?"

He took another step back and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I'm okay."

She let her arms drop. "Are you sure about that?"

His hand skimmed over his smoothed back hair. "Yeah. I um…I guess, maybe could we take this slow?"

Clarice's eyebrows rose. "Slow," she repeated.

"Yes."

_Cosmic, fate thing_ , her head sing-songed to her. "Okay. Slow." She straightened up and put a hand lightly over his chest. His heart was beating mighty fast under there. "Slow is fine."

"Really?"

She didn't sound convincing enough. She forced a smile on her face. "Yeah. It's okay, really."  _Liar, liar, pants on fire!_

He nodded, relieved and then lifted his hand to rest against her neck at the base of her jaw. "I wish I could stay longer."

"But work calls. Strippers are hard to ignore."

He half smiled and leaned down to kiss her again, soft and lingering. "You have my number now," he said, awkwardly leaving the bathroom.

She followed. "Yep. Are we gonna let fate do its thing again and not make another date?"

"If you want to."

She did not want to, but she was trying not to completely scare him off. "I think I can make it work." If he could find her after a few days, she could easily find him. It wasn't like she didn't know where he worked.

He smiled, relieved again. "I had a really nice time. And see, I  _can_  actually handle you at full speed."

"Just about," she said, her lips quirked.

John hesitated and then came back for one last, slightly longer kiss before he disappeared. She smiled and waved at him before closing the door behind him.

Letting out a frustrated groan, she leaned back against the door and lightly hit her head against it. "Stupid, stupid, why did I say that?" She opened her eyes only when she felt Zingo come over and lean against her legs. "What'm I gonna do, Zing? You know I'm the opposite of slow."

With a sigh, she stripped out of her tight skirt and tugged her crop top over her head as she walked to her bedroom, leaving her heels at the door. Zingo followed and jumped on the bed to squeeze her favorite green dino squeak toy.

"Go slow…what  _says that_?" She shook her head, standing in front of her closet again. Letting out another frustrated sound, she quickly got dressed in leggings, a sportsbra and a tank top. Maybe a long walk with Zingo would clear her head and help her figure out what "going slow" meant.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarice sat down with an exaggerated breath in the coffee shop across from Sage, who was dressed all prim and proper for her office job, sipping a latte. It was early, seven AM, but Clarice  _needed_  to talk to someone before she went insane. Sage went to work at eight, so this was her only option since she didn't want to impede on Lorna, who had gotten married just a week ago.

"You said it was urgent," Sage said, setting her phone down on the table.

Clarice warmed her hands on the white paper cup, filled with mostly espresso and a little bit of water. "It is urgent," she grumbled. Compared to Sage, she looked like she was a hobo. Sweatpants and big sweater, her hair a disaster. The only thing that she had done this morning was put on a light layer of foundation because she never left the house without it.

Sage's expression said that she didn't believe it. "Well, whatever it is, how can I help?"

"I went on a date with John."

"Proudstar?"

"No, Lennon. Yes, John Proudstar." Clarice sipped her drink.

"And? How did it go?"

"Great! He found my shop, I gave him a tattoo, we went out to eat."

Sage tilted her head to the side. "If that's all, I don't see why this is an emergency."

Clarice sighed. "He came up to my place after and we…y'know, kissed. A lot. And then, he suddenly stopped and asked if we could go slow."

Sage waited for Clarice to continue, the minutes stretching out between them. "Is  _that_ all?" she finally asked.

"Yes!"

"I still don't see the problem."

"He asked us to  _go slow_ , Sage. Who says that? Especially a dude."

"A lot of people do."

Clarice narrowed her eyes. "Not to  _me_."

"That's because you just jump into bed with anyone who gives you attention and then self-destruct a few weeks in because they're not who you think they were."

"Ouch."

"You came to me, I thought you were expecting tough love."

"I was but…" She sighed, resting her elbow on the table and her head in her hand. "Do guys ask to go slow because they don't find the other person attractive? Isn't it just a way to lead people on?"

"Not usually."

"God, I hope he doesn't have like a secret family or something."

Sage laughed a little. "I highly doubt that. And I highly doubt that he doesn't find you attractive."

"Then why would he say that?"

"Did you ask him?"

Clarice gave herself a mental slap. "No."

"Then there you go, the answer to all your problems. Ask him why. I'm sure he has a perfectly legitimate reason. And, just between us, if someone asks to go slow, it usually means that they're thinking of the future. As in, they want there to be one."

Clarice ran a fingertip along the ridge of her lid. "Are you speaking from personal experience?"

"I am, actually."

Clarice raised her eyebrows. "Wait…are you  _seeing_  someone?"

"Yeah. Tyrone."

Clarice stared at her blankly.

Sage rolled her eyes. "Shatter."

"What?!" Clarice's exclamation cut through the whole café and a handful of people turned to stare at her.

"I hate that nickname, by the way."

"I know you're not a joking person, but is this a joke?"

"No."

"How…how the fuck have you kept this quiet?"

Sage shrugged. "We wanted to keep things slow and private."

"You two were at the wedding! I didn't even notice…"

"Private," Sage emphasized.

"How long have you been together?"

"Over a year."

Clarice choked on her coffee. "Shit."

"You're the first person I've told."

Clarice softened her defense after that. Sage had been through a lot of shit since Clarice met her in math class freshmen year. Next to Lorna, Sage was one of Clarice's closest friends. They both had very little—or no—family, and they had always been on the outskirts of society. "Well, I'm happy for you." She smiled a small smile. "But…Shatter? I mean he's so… _sports_! And you're all numbers and finances."

"I actually quite like sports."

"Since when?"

Sage shrugged a slender shoulder and took another sip of her latte. "We're going to visit his family for the holidays and then I was thinking of telling everyone."

"To be totally honest, I'm surprised  _he_  has been able to keep this a secret for so long. He's such a loud personality."

"He wanted to go slow," Sage added with a little grin.

Clarice stared, not amused. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. So just…talk to John. Maybe think about your own feelings toward him and see where you want it to go." Sage stood then, even though they hadn't been there very long. She put her hand on Clarice's arm and gave her a little squeeze. "I think you already like him more than you've liked anyone else since I've known you, which has been a long time."

"Thanks for making me feel old."

"Give it a shot. Take a breath. And you can talk to me about it if you need to, okay?"

With a nod, Clarice smiled thinly. "Thanks." She pulled Sage into an awkward one-armed hug while still seated on the high stool. "Now go make lots of money for people richer than both of us."

Sage laughed and walked away. She turned back to give Clarice a little wave before going through the door.

Clarice was left alone with her Americano and an information overload. She pulled out her phone and opened up the two messages that John had sent the previous day. Before she did something stupid, she got up and walked home, planning a morning of walking Zingo and going into the shop before opening to finish up one of her commissions whose appointment was coming up soon, just so that she didn't have to think about this. It was a lot to digest, and she needed a distraction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarice had bookings and walk in hours for the rest of the week. By the time Friday rolled around, she decided to take matters into her own hands. She thought a lot about what Sage said. She and John had talked a little bit, a few texts here and there, but she really wanted to talk to him face to face. She'd been spending her nights eating ice cream and drinking wine and watching movies with Zingo, wallowing in her own inability to face her feelings, and her mornings working off the ice cream and wine with long jogs and hours at the gym.

She was, to be completely blunt, feeling pretty pathetic.

One of her closest friends, and the best tattoo artist she knew, Eric Gitter, was going to use one of her chairs for the next two weeks, so if she was a little late into work today, she could handle it. Alison had the keys to the shop and would open up at noon. The weekends—which always included Fridays—were always their biggest times for clients, since the shop was located near the university, but Clarice had a life too. A life she was trying to grapple.

After a quick call to Lorna at seven-thirty AM, Clarice decided to take to the streets and take a Lyft to John's community center. It wasn't hard to find, though it was farther away than she expected.

Compared to the last time she'd seen John, she toned it  _way down_. Yoga pants, t-shirt, hair down, a little bit of makeup. She left her driver a tip and then walked up to the simple, but large building. A few kids walked out with backpacks, heading to the corner where she guessed the bus picked them up.

Sucking in a breath, she walked inside. There were more kids inside than she expected there to be, but it was early and most of them were rushing out with milk cartons and packaged foods in their hands. She avoided any collisions and walked through the large doorway to one of the bigger rooms within the building. It had tables and by the looks of it, was a small cafeteria. She guessed most of the kids leaving had come for breakfast.

Her last foster parents had been some of the better ones. She never had to go hungry when she was with them, but before then? Not so much. She spent a number of days with a rumbling stomach and she was saddened to admit that she'd stolen food quite often when she was little.

Swallowing down her own past, she spotted just who she was looking for in the corner, talking with someone else who looked like a staff member. She didn't want to interrupt, and hovered by the wall as the rest of the kids rushed out with yells and squeals and then the building fell into quiet.

The guy John was talking to noticed her first. And then John turned around.

Clarice gave him a small smile and raised a hand. "Hi."

"Hey," John said, an unreadable expression skittering across his face before he turned back to the other guy. A quick exchange of a shoulder pat and a few words later and John walked over to her.

Still feeling weird about the  _slow_  thing, Clarice didn't move to kiss him even though she really wanted to. He looked…different, all dressed up in a button down and khakis. It wasn't a bad look, just very different from his night job uniform.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," she said with a grin.

He smiled back and gently took her elbow to show her out of the room and to a smaller one that looked a lot like an office of some sort. "I would ask how you found me, but you know where I work."

"I took a guess about the time," she said, eyes moving around the room, taking in all of the piles, the photos, and everything else. "Could I steal you away for like an hour or two?"

"Now?"

She nodded. "I know it's short notice but I'm going on a walk with Lorna and Marcos. I was gonna bring my dog."

"A walk."

"Yeah. Around that lake near their house. And I thought maybe you'd like to come. But I know you're doing serious work here, so I understand if you can't."

John thought about it and shook his head. "No, I'll come. Let me just talk to Bobby and have him hold down the fort while I'm gone. Most of the kids will be gone for a while but we have a group of moms and toddlers coming in at ten. Give me a few minutes?"

She nodded and he left the room, pulling his phone out of his pocket. That left her alone in his office. Obviously, she had to search around. She ran her finger along the edge of the photo near his desk: it was of him and who she assumed was Bobby, the guy John was talking to earlier, with a young blonde woman and a group of kids. Everyone was smiling and Clarice couldn't help but smile too.

There was a smaller photo on his desk, a bit warn and not as professional looking. It was definitely John, though he was younger, probably twenty or so, with someone who she assumed was a younger brother, mother and grandfather. She guessed the ages, but in any case, they were definitely related. She bit down on her lower lip; normally the guys she dated were just in the moment, she never wanted to know about their pasts, their families, where they came from. But with John? She found herself wanting to know everything about him.

She snatched her hand back from the picture as John walked back in, phone pressed against his ear. "Thanks, Esme. I know it's short notice." There was a pause and then he said goodbye and hung up.

"All set?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't notice that she was on the other side of his desk now.

"Yeah. Let me just change."

"You keep spare clothes here?"

"I have a whole closet," he said, waving over to the very secure looking standing cabinet near the door. "Juggling two jobs takes a bit more time management than expected."

She laughed lightly as his fingers worked to undo the buttons on his shirt. "I'll be outside trying to find a water fountain," she said, hoping she wasn't being obvious. She wasn't entirely sure what  _slow_  entailed, but seeing him strip in front of her was going to be harder for her to deal with than she wanted to face before they had  _a talk_.

It didn't actually take her long to find a water fountain, and by the time she dried her mouth, he walked out of his office. He had changed into jeans and a Henley, his new tattoo hidden.

"I hope you don't mind driving," she said, walking up to him. "I don't own a car."

"Any reason why not?"

She shrugged. "No. I can drive, I just choose not to. I work and live close, and Lyft is a thing, so…"

"Fair enough."

"Sorry we have to go to my apartment first but it's sort of on the way. I would have brought Zingo but the guy driving me didn't allow dogs in his car."

They stepped outside to the parking lot and John walked to his car. "Zingo, is that the invisible dog you keep mentioning?"

She laughed and rolled her eyes. "I told you, she's shy. She doesn't like a lot of people. It takes her a while to warm up to you."

"Unlike her owner."

Clarice got inside. "Depending on the person I'll never warm up to them. Like Carlos Diaz." She made a face.

"Marcos's brother?" John started his car and headed out. He either had a GPS in his head or he somehow remembered the way to her place, which made her heart flutter a little bit.

"Do you know him too?"

"Yeah. Total ass. I never liked him."

Clarice reminded herself that John had grown up with Marcos so it would make sense that he also knew his brothers. "Yeah, Carlos was pissed that Marcos picked Jose to be his best man at the wedding but he got over it." She bit down on the inside of her cheek. She didn't mention that Sonia was the reason it looked like Carlos got over that little fact.

If John caught on to her thought process, he didn't mention anything about it.

They pulled up to her curb and she jumped out. "I'll be right back. I hope you don't mind dog hair in your car. Zingo sheds."

Zingo was such a mellow dog that she didn't even need a leash to walk her downstairs, but Clarice had one in her hand anyway, knowing that the lake path required it. Clarice opened the back door of John's car and Zingo spent a long time sniffing the seat before jumping in.

"John, this is Zingo, my not-invisible dog," Clarice said as Zingo continued to sniff around and eventually shoved her head between the seats and sniffed John's shoulder. John twisted in the seat and let Zingo sniff his hand before he pat her head.

"Very not invisible."

"Just shy. Like I said." Clarice scratched Zingo's ears and then pulled up the lake on her phone so they could find their way to the lake.

The next fifteen minutes were spent getting directions to the lake and finding their way there. Zingo settled down on the back seat and occasionally stood to stick her head out the half opened window.

It was easy enough to spot Lorna and Marcos and Aurora when they pulled into the little lot at the beginning of the path around the lake. Lorna's bright green hair was like a beacon.

Clarice clipped the leash onto Zingo and slipped the loop around her wrist. She had already told Lorna that there was a chance John would be coming with them, so at least they didn't have to deal with awkward surprise. Aurora was in her stroller with a doll and looked half asleep, so the adults started walking.

Clarice  _almost_  slipped up about Sage and Shatter, but caught herself at the last minute. The four of them crowded across the path as Lorna and Marcos talked about married life—according to them both, it wasn't that much different than what they'd been doing for the past five years.

Lorna and Clarice walked faster than the guys, so soon it was the girls walking a few paces ahead of the boys.

"So…how's it going with John?" Lorna asked, her voice low so it wouldn't carry.

Clarice let out a strained laugh. "Just fine, just fine. Only he wants us to go slow." She looked pointedly at Lorna.

Lorna sucked air through her teeth. "Oooh." Lorna, more than Sage, understood just how Clarice's mind went when it came to relationships.

"Yeah." Clarice raked her hands through her hair. "So that's been a thing."

"When did this happen?"

"Tuesday. We went on a date."

"You didn't tell me!"

"You're on your honeymoon."

"We're not having a honeymoon," Lorna pointed out.

Clarice shook her head. "It doesn't matter. I didn't want to bother you with all this."

"Please. I'm a married woman now. I am more than interested in my friends' relationships."

"Are you now? Have you heard from Sonia?"

"Yep. Luckily the Carlos thing was just a weekend fling. She's not stupid, she figured out really fast how much of a sleaze he is."

It was a pretty mutual feeling toward Marcos's older brother.

"I um…I noticed Peter wasn't at the wedding," Clarice said. Had it really been a week since she talked to Lorna? Typically, they talked every day. Maybe a part of her had been actually hiding rather than only being aware of her friend's new marital status. John was really throwing her for a fucking loop.

Lorna shrugged. "He got tossed in jail. For  _years_  this time. Wanda is pretty broken up and visits him all the time. Crystal and her have been spending a lot of time together."

"How's Lucy taking it?" Lucy was Lorna's niece, a few years older than Aurora.

"Well before he got tossed away he got her a puppy, so I don't think she really understands that her dad's gone yet."

Clarice put her hand atop Lorna's on the stroller handle. "How do you feel about it? I mean, he missed your wedding."

Lorna shrugged. "It's not the end of the world. It's not like we're particularly close siblings. I hope this will help him get straight so that Lucy and Aurora can maybe actually have a relationship with him once they get older."

Clarice nodded and glanced over her shoulder at John and Marcos. They were talking, and whatever they were talking about made them both appear relaxed. She tried to picture the two of them growing up together but found it hard to imagine.

"Sage's advice was to talk to John about it," Clarice blurted out.

"About what?"

"The slow thing."

"Right. Well, I can grab Marcos and we can sit and you guys can go ahead so you're alone." The lake didn't have many others circling it, and most of them had headphones so they would be as alone as one could be in a public setting.

Clarice was gripped with mild panic at the thought of confronting someone about  _emotions_ , but knew it was the right thing to do. "Just don't make it too obvious."

Lorna chuckled. "Some of us have tact."

Clarice gasped in offense.

There was a bench a few yards up and Lorna wheeled the stroller over and plopped down. "The sun is so nice, I just want to enjoy it for a little while." She reached out a hand and Marcos took it, joining her. "You guys go ahead. We'll catch up."

Clarice switched which wrist Zingo's leash was around and John settled into step beside her. "I hope this isn't terrible."

"No. It's nice actually. The weather, the company."

"Marcos has turned into quite a good guy," Clarice nodded. "I figured it'd be nice for you guys to catch up some more."

"It'll take more than a walk to make up all the years," John said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's a start," she shrugged. She wasn't particularly in  _date mode_  so her energy levels were a lot lower than usual. They walked in comfortable silence for a little while, close enough for the backs of their hands to bump together. Their fingers linked and Clarice's stomach did a flop. She was never into gymnastics, this really had to stop.

"Can I ask you something?" They were far enough away from Lorna and Marcos for her to feel comfortable bringing this up. Well, as comfortable as she was gonna be. Sage was right: she never liked to face her feelings and always deliberately messed up her relationships when things started getting even a little bit serious. Yet here she was, starting something that, from the get-go-felt like it was going to be serious.

"Yeah, go ahead."

She was thankful for Zingo trotting innocently next to them, tongue lolling out, tail wagging gently side to side.

"Why uh…why do you want to take things slow?"

"Ah. That."

"Yes, that." She bit her tongue so she didn't go on a ramble about how much this had been bothering her for days now. The last thing she wanted to do was to appear needy and emotionally unstable. Even though she was.

"Sorry. I probably should have told you."

_Here it comes. Please don't be another family, please don't be another family._

"It's just that I haven't really seen anyone since I got back from the Middle East. I got back and moved here and threw myself into my work."

Wait.

Was that it?

"I'm still adjusting. And I don't want to mess things up." He squeezed her hand gently.

"Is that it?" she asked, more for her own sake than his.

He looked at her quizzically. "Yes?"

Well now she felt like a complete idiot. "I mean, that makes perfect sense. I don't want to mess this up either." For now, she was just going to keep her little freak out to herself and Sage and Lorna.

"You were worried, weren't you?" They barely knew each other! How could he see through her so clearly?

"Not worried. Just…obsessed. I have a reoccurring problem with serious relationships." She scuffed her sneaker against the pavement just before they got to the sturdy wooden bridge across the marshy far end of the lake.

"What kind of problem?"

She heaved a sigh. "I've never really had one before. A serious relationship." And she wasn't getting any damn younger. Her friends were getting married and in lengthy relationships while she was still trying to figure out how to juggle a social life and her own business. At least Sonia was struggling a bit too. It was a small condolence.

"Really?" He didn't sound judgey, which was nice.

"Like I said, I'm a handful and a half."

"Baggage is pretty much expected at our age."

"At our age?" She stopped short and let go of his hand. "Are you calling me old?"

He turned to face her with an amused look on his face. "No, but we aren't twenty."

"No. Thank god. That was a bad year." She shook her head and watched as Zingo trotted to John and leaned against his legs. She only did that with people she liked.

Taking the leash off her wrist, she walked closer to him until his back was against the wooden railing.

"Zingo doesn't even really need the leash, but laws and all that." She pressed the leash into his hand. "You should walk her. She likes you. Which is good because I like you too."

"I didn't know I had to get your dog's approval."

"I can't give you all my trade secrets right away. There has to be some mystery involved." She placed her hands gently against his chest and leaned up to kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three is going to be the final chapter and it's gonna deal with the holidays!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The holidays are near and that means Christmas lights, family, food and emotional breakdowns. You know, the usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was born from reading another cute Thunderblink AU where there is a Christmas theme. It is near the holidays, so I wanted to end on a high point. This is very, very long, but I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> I may return to this AU one day, but we'll see!

Clarice warmed her hands on the bottom of the large bowl as she walked from kitchen to couch and plopped down beside John. His arm automatically went around her shoulders and she snuggled closer before leaning forward to grab her wine glass and settled back again.

"This is the life," she sighed happily, holding the glass in one hand and digging into the bowl with the other. "Wine, popcorn,  _Die Hard_."

"And me," John added, also grabbing some popcorn. She rolled her eyes but had to agree. It had been a good two-ish months. Weird because of the whole  _slow_  thing, but Clarice was learning to deal with it.

Christmas was right around the corner. For some unknown reason, the original  _Die Hard_  was Clarice's go-to holiday flick and John wasn't really a movie person, so he hadn't minded her suggestion. Zingo was curled up on the other side of John on the couch. They'd bonded far quicker than Clarice expected. Her dog was picky and had liked about three whole people in the world before she met John.

Then again, it was hard not to absolutely melt around him, so Clarice couldn't blame Zingo.

"I still can't believe you've never seen this," Clarice said, sipping wine and waving at the screen. She let her salty hand rest on the edge of the bowl.

"I haven't seen a lot of movies."

"I need a list."

"It'd be easier for me to give you a list of movies I  _have_ seen."

"Yes! Do that. For me. For Christmas." She turned and grinned, knowing he could see her blurrily out the corner of his eye.

They'd gone back and forth about Christmas gifts. To give, not to give. Clarice wasn't a gift giver; at least not physical objects. She tended to gift  _memories_ ; adventures and excursions were her forte. John didn't celebrate Christmas—or any holidays really—so they settled on a nice dinner in on the 25th.

The date was coming up, and Clarice would be lying if she wasn't a little bit nervous. She'd never really done holidays with any of her past flings unless it was Valentine's Day and that was more just the social principal than any actual reason. But things were different with John, like she knew they would be.

They'd done a lot of talking in the last ten weeks. John told her he only really considered relationships unless he could see them lasting, which had spiked her anxiety incidentally but she hadn't blamed him for it. Clarice had vaguely mentioned how she was dropped off at a church by unknown parents with only a name and the necklace she wore almost every day. She hadn't gotten too into it though; she hadn't wanted to bring the mood down.

All in all, things with John continued to be an alien experience for Clarice.

From actively helping John set up a safe Halloween trick-or-treating night for the community kids, to dealing with a food disaster on Thanksgiving with the same kids, their lives had somehow fallen into a unique rhythm between the two of them. Clarice pushed a little bit and John slowed her down when she got ahead of herself. It was like an ebb and flow that they'd gotten quickly adjusted to.

He always seemed grateful for her help at VCC. She got to know his staff—Bobby Drake and Esme Cuckoo had helped him start it up from nothing, and his more frequent social workers and volunteers were all kind—and even helped him plan the Thanksgiving feast. Not that he celebrated Thanksgiving, but he knew it was a recognized holiday where a lot of kids went hungry so he focused on that and not the historical accuracies behind the holiday.

Halloween had been fun. Clarice didn't often chaperone anything, but she and John and the staff had set up a few blocks for all of the community kids to safely go to and get candy with costumes donated to the center. Clarice spent the whole night amazed at how proud and  _happy_  John had been watching a bunch of kids in dime store costumes running around like they didn't have a care in the world.

It was all so different from the fast relationships she was used to. Those were many dates at shiny, sparkling clubs and bars, lots of heated fights and make-up sex, and little else until the breakup. John's contentment and small assurances helped, but they both knew that this was entirely new and they were okay with that.

Well, Clarice kept telling herself that.

Nights like tonight, when they both had work off and were just cuddling and watching a movie like any normal couple, was the most alien to her. She was so used to needing to  _impress_ , to keep going, going, going like the Energizer Bunny, that she wasn't used to this calm experience. She liked it; she just didn't know how to handle it.

"Can we—"

"No."

"You didn't let me finish!"

"You were gonna ask if we could go out after this."

Clarice glared. "So what, we just watch the movie?"

"And you may get lucky."

She scoffed. "Yeah right, Mr. Prudestar." A harsh but true little nickname she'd come to call him recently for no other reason but she was very sexually frustrated.

He shrugged a shoulder. "Not with that attitude."

She rolled her eyes. "Don't use your Dad voice on me."

"I don't have a Dad voice."

"Yes you do! You use it at the community center all the time."

He shook his head. "I don't believe you. I just…talk normal. All the time."

Clarice snickered. "Sure, keep telling yourself that." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then turned back to the movie. "God dammit, now we have to rewind it." She did just that with the remote on the cushion next to her.

They finished off the wine and the popcorn by the time the credits rolled. Clarice started humming  _Jingle Bells_  under her breath and grinned over at him. "What did you think?"

"It was…good."

She tilted her head at him. "At least you didn't hate it." She was beginning to accept that she and John wouldn't agree on a lot of things, and she wasn't about to get upset over movie tastes when there were bigger things to worry about.

"I did not."

She stood with the popcorn bowl, the wine warming her to the core and toning her down just enough to fully enjoy an evening in. She shuffled over to the kitchen and Zingo followed, weaving between her legs and nearly tripping her.

The credits filled the apartment with sound. Clarice washed the bowl quickly and didn't even hear John come up behind her until he slipped his arms around her.

"So," he said, slowly dragging her away from cleaning, his cheek resting against her hair.

"So," she echoed, hooking slightly damp fingers around his wrists. "What do we do now if we're not allowed out of the house?" She twisted a bit so she could see his mouth curve into a small smirk at her words.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's ten. There is plenty of night left."

"I mean, we could always swing by work if you're so adamant."

She laughed and twisted around, pushing him back a little. "Only if you'd give me a private show."

"You're still going on about that…"

"I refuse to believe you work in a male strip joint and have never had to do a number on stage."

He shrugged a shoulder and caught her hips in his hands. "Why do our conversations always end up here?"

"Because I am persistent and I will keep asking until you crack and then I will finally be fulfilled," she replied with a sly grin.

John shook his head and cupped her cheek with one of his hands. "Oh, is that all I have to do?"

She laughed lightly, her hands finding places on his torso to rest and grip his shirt in her fists. She had no time to answer because he kissed her. She pushed herself up on her toes and his hips hit the counter behind him. She leaned into him and he wove his fingers through her hair.

Clarice lost herself in the kisses, like she always did, taking him by the shirt and backing them up toward the awaiting couch. She dragged him down with her with surprising force for a small person, and he stopped them then, like he always did. Well, not always. About 80% of the time.

"What now?" she whined. She didn't typically resort to that tone but it slipped out before she had a chance to check herself. "I was just about to get lucky." She reached out a hand toward him as he perched on his knees. She waited patiently, something that didn't come all that natural to her but she had been practicing lately.

"I want to ask you something," he said, which wasn't his usual response.

She pushed herself up into a sitting position, tugging her legs under her so he could finish sitting down. "You better not be asking me to marry you," she mumbled.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at her like she was crazy. "No," he said firmly. He set a hand down on her ankle. "I know we said Christmas dinner, but I was wondering if you'd like to do something else."

Clarice raised an eyebrow. Sage was going away with Shatter for the holidays, and Clarice wanted to distance herself from Lorna and Marcos for a little while at least, so they could have a solely family holiday, especially with Lorna's older brother being in jail and all. Sonia was the only one still around, but Clarice hadn't wanted to make an awkward third-wheel situation between her and John and the redhaired woman, so Clarice had pretty much accepted that she wasn't going to have much of a Christmas this year. It wasn't the end of the world. But she had been  _really_ looking forward to her dinner with John. Mostly because he said he was going to cook and she wanted to see that in action.

Hiding the flashes of fear and concern on her face, she tilted her head to the side. "Something like…?"

"Going away somewhere."

Okay, that peaked her interest. "And where would we go?"

"You're making this harder than it should be," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair.

Clarice sat forward and rested a hand on his knee. "I'm sorry, I'll stop asking questions. Go ahead, ask me whatever it is you wanted to ask me." She had never felt so sincere in her life, but she knew that John would be able to pick up on it. He was scary good at reading her emotions.

"All right." He took a deep breath and squeezed her ankle. "I was wondering if you wanted to come home with me for Christmas. To meet my family."

That was very  _not_  what she expected. She waited for a joke, but there was none. Could he see her flight response flicker through her eyes? "Your family?" She hoped her voice wasn't as strained as it sounded to her ears.

"I know that's kind of the opposite of slow," he admitted sheepishly.

"Ya think?" She processed this. "Don't take this the wrong way but…why?"

Thank god he knew her well enough not to be offended. "We don't celebrate but most of the world is on hold so it's the best time of year for me to get away and visit them. I know you're gonna be alone for the holidays and, plus, I want you to meet them. I want them to meet you."

Clarice sucked in a breath. She had no family to tell about John. She wasn't used to family ties; her closest thing to family she had was Lorna and Sage and, while Suzanna Dane had basically adopted her, it wasn't the same as having blood relatives. "Have you told them about me?"

"Not yet. I was going to ask you first."

She nodded, leaning sideways into the back cushion of her couch. Zingo, as if sensing her anxiety, came over and stood at her side, letting Clarice run a hand over her fur. "This is a big step." Statement, not a question. Bringing someone home was something people did when they were serious. And while she was intrigued by the idea of getting  _serious_  with John Proudstar, she wasn't always prepared for what that entailed. Like going home with him for the holidays.

"You can say no," he added. "I'll stay here and spend Christmas with you, or I'll go home for a few days on my own. I don't want to pressure you into anything."

Clarice returned to his gaze, those deep, dark eyes helping her to make the decision. If she kept treating this like she treated past things, it was never gonna go anywhere. And the thought of  _that_  was more terrifying than taking a trip with John to meet his family.

"I don't want to say no," she said, her words coming out not quite how she intended. "I mean, I want to go with you."

He visibly brightened. "Really?"

She couldn't believe she was doing this. "Yeah, really."

He leaned forward and kissed her, long and hard, his hands holding her face. She slipped her hands around his wrists and gave him a tiny nervous smile when he settled back.

"When are you leaving? We, I mean," she added.

"The day after Christmas. I do a big thing for the kids at VCC on Christmas day."

"Of course you do," she said softly. How the hell did she end up with such a catch?

"I just hope I can get another seat on the flight."

She frowned. "Don't let me fly alone. I don't do flying well."

He matched her expression. "I'd say we drive but that would take like two days."

She shook her head. "I  _can_  fly, I just…it's fine. As long as you're there, it'll be fine."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said with a smile that lit up the whole entire room.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A week later, Clarice stood outside a door and knocked, a duffle bag in hand and Zingo next to her. She bent down to scratch Zingo's ear when the door opened.

"Hey," Clarice said with a smile.

Sonia smiled too. "Hi. Come on in."

Zingo trotted into the tiny apartment and sniffed around. "Thank you for watching her for a few days," Clarice said, putting the bag down on the coffee table.

"It's no problem. We all know I'm not doing anything this post-Christmas except buying myself a necklace and watching every Tom Hanks movie from the nineties," Sonia said, joining Clarice on the couch.

"Food and toys are in here. I can't do anything for her shedding but I can buy you a new vacuum if you want," Clarice said with a chuckle.

Sonia rolled her eyes. "It's fine, really."

Clarice searched around for Zingo, who was finishing inspecting everything and came over to Clarice. She leaned against Clarice's legs.

"So…going home with John, huh?" Sonia asked.

Clarice tried to hide the momentary panic that flooded her system but failed. She wasn't quite as on guard around her friends as she was around John. "Yeah," she said feebly.

Sonia pulled one leg under her so she could face Clarice. "It's gonna be fine. If John's any inclination, his family is great."

"You know from experience?"

"Um…no. I never met his family. I mean, I met his brother in passing but he didn't really like that John was dating a white girl." Sonia pushed her bangs back and moved to pet Zingo, who seemed to realize she was being left here for a while.

"He never took you home? I thought you dated for years." Clarice frowned.

Sonia shrugged. "We did. It's no big deal."

"I'm probably freaking out more about this than I should be."

"Maybe a little."

Clarice gave Sonia a look. "Thanks for the pep talk."

"Just think, John wants you to meet his  _family_ , it is a big deal. He's very close to his family. It's small but they're all very close."

"Not really helping."

"If John likes you enough to bring you home, you should be honored."

Clarice arched an eyebrow. "Honored?"

"I mean it! But just remember…they're only people. There's nothing to be scared of."

"Unless they hate me and then  _whoop_  there goes any hope with John."

Sonia had nothing to say against that, so she just gave Clarice a small, reassuring smile and squeezed her hand. "Just enjoy yourself."

"While you're here all alone?"

"Look my family moved to LA and that last thing I want to do right now is fight Los Angeles Christmas tourists. I'll go see them for Sammy's birthday in February. And, I think, sometimes it's okay to be alone during a holiday. It puts things into perspective."

Clarice had spent many holidays alone, or lonely, depending on the year. She, Sage and Lorna met in their freshmen orientation at college and hadn't allowed any of them to have a single holiday alone since. She had forgotten what it was like to be  _alone_. She was always surrounded by people now, on purpose.

"As long as you're okay with it." Standing up, Clarice walked to the door and dropped to a knee. She scrunched up Zingo's soft ears in her hands and scratched and hugged her dog before telling her to be good and standing once again.

"I'll take good care of her," Sonia said, giving Clarice a hug. "Zingo is honestly the zen-est dog I've ever met."

Clarice laughed a little and her phone vibrated in her pocket. It was John, reminding her of when their flight was. "Gotta go," she said. She gave Zingo one last pat and Sonia one more hug. "Call me or text me if you need some social interaction, okay?"

The previous day had been Christmas, but Clarice had spent the whole day with John at VCC and hadn't had a chance to see any of her friends. It was weird, but she was getting used to it. She just didn't want them to think that she was abandoning them because she was dating someone new.

"Okay, okay. Now go," Sonia shooed her out the door. "Enjoy the weather. It's beautiful there. I do miss the dry heat."

Clarice had no experience with dry heat so she took Sonia's word for it. "Bye!" she called behind her as she rushed down to John in the idling car at the curb.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The flight from Atlanta to Phoenix was only a few hours and with the time zone difference, they'd land just an hour after they left. John explained all of this and it did little to calm down Clarice's anxiety about flying. It was an irrational fear. The thought of hurtling through the sky in a tin can had always been extremely unsettling. She'd gone on a single flight with the girls once, to New York City, and it had been the worst flight for turbulence, further perpetrating her fear.

She dressed down as much as she ever had around John—her entire suitcase was filled with leggings, socks and sweaters—and she didn't even really care. Her nerves were impossibly frayed and she was more than thankful that he didn't try to make her feel better like most people did. Waiting for their flight to leave, he just sat next to her, fingers laced through hers as she listened to music and flipped through a magazine she'd bought at one of the many stands along the hallways within the airport.

By the time they were in the sky, she had officially bruised John's hand squeezing so hard and took just a few minutes to tell him she was going to sleep and asked him to wake her up before they landed. She did just that, curling up with the safety buckle digging into her stomach and not caring, earbuds in her ears, her head resting against either against the closed window shade or John's shoulder.

It wasn't the worst experience of her life, but, as the plane came down through the sky, she was close to officially freaking out, but John put up the arm between their seats and held onto her until they were down. Surprisingly, once they landed and parked, she calmed down immediately.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," John said, once she finally took her headphones out with hands that were shaking but steadier than they had been just minutes earlier.

Clarice laughed, thin and dry. "I did warn you."

"I didn't know it would be this bad. I'm sorry."

"I'm an adult, I can handle my own fears. Sort of. Thank you for the cuddling, it helped," she added.

They stayed seated until most of the plane was empty before they stepped into the aisle. Clarice's legs felt wobbly, but got better once they were walking up the tunnel to the airport. It was beyond bright, the inside of the airport large and spacious with Mexican and Native décor. It was quite pretty for an airport.

John, who had been texting on his phone since they landed, took her hand and wove them both through the crowds to the other side of the airport where the exits were.

"You  _did_  tell your family you were bringing me, right?" Clarice asked, after they'd stopped at the restrooms so she could try to make herself appear less like a street rat and more like a real live person. The last thing she wanted was to get off on the wrong foot when it came to first impressions.

"Yes, of course. Mom and James are here already." There was a lightness in his step, an excitement that helped ground Clarice. His happiness was contagious. "Just a fair warning, James can be a little…rough around the edges."

"I can handle that."

"He means well. He just doesn't always understand my life choices…"

She squeezed his hand as they got to the revolving doors that separated the gates from the drop-offs. She was a little bit nervous, but not as much as she thought she would be. The flight had burned up most of her nervousness, which hopefully would end up being a good thing.

They shuffled through the revolving door—large enough for the two of them—and came out the other side, that was louder and warmer than the gates. It  _was_  the holidays, so there were lots of people waiting. Clarice vaguely knew what John's family looked like thanks to that photo he kept in his office at VCC but there were so many unfamiliar faces here that it was hard to pick anyone out.

John yanked her in one direction and let go of her hand. It took Clarice a few seconds to recognize the two faces standing there as John's mom and brother. She hovered back as he hugged both of them with almost childish excitement, the three of them speaking in a language she didn't recognize. It was pleasant to watch, warming her frayed and strained soul.

And then John turned to her and she stepped to his side, thankful for the arm that went around her shoulders. "This is Clarice," he introduced. Clarice smiled. "My mom, Maria, and James."

"It's very nice to meet you, Clarice," Maria said, standing close enough to gently squeeze Clarice's arm.

At the same time, James muttered something under his breath and John pushed him back a step or two. Maria watched the exchange with a tired sigh and took Clarice's arm, leading her to the stairs that led downstairs.

"I hope the flight was okay."

Clarice cleared her throat. "I'm not a fan of flying but I'm here, so I'd say it went well." She glanced over her shoulder at John and James, who were having a quiet conversation, but following them.

"I'm very glad you came to visit."

"Really?"

Maria nodded. "John's far away most of the time and usually when he comes home he's…well, he hasn't looked this exuberant in a very long time."

"And you think that's to do with me?" Clarice was baffled. She assumed he was acting so carefree because he was seeing his family. What did  _she_  have to do with it?

"John doesn't bring women home."

"So I've heard," Clarice mused, following Maria to the baggage claim.

Maria patted Clarice's arm and then turned to her sons. "Why don't you go get the truck?" she said to James.

He sighed. "Can't we all just walk to the parking lot?"

Maria narrowed her eyes. "Fine. I'll go get the truck." She walked purposefully toward the door. James cursed under his breath and jogged after her, leaving John and Clarice alone, waiting for the conveyer belt to start.

John stood next to her and rubbed her back through her cozy sweater. "How're you doing?"

"Good. Your mom said she hasn't seen you so happy in a while." She glanced up at him. "That wouldn't have something to do with me would it?"

"If it did, would it bother you?"

She shrugged as the belts started moving and people crowded in closer. "You never told me you knew more than one language," she added, keeping watch for her magenta suitcase. She was one of those people who matched most of her attire, accessories and life essentials to the color of her hair.

"My parents and grandfather made sure James and I learned Athabaskan. It's an oral language so it's easy to let die, but we both know it. Growing up, it's the only thing we were allowed to speak in the house."

"And now?"

"We still do. But we'll use English since you're here."

"Thanks for the consideration." Her words sounded sarcastic to her ringing ears but she shrugged it off and stepped forward when she caught the distinct color of her suitcase.

A few minutes later, they both had their single bags of luggage and headed out to the arrival platform, where John spotted the family four-door truck and tossed their bags in the bed before they got into the back seat.

"How far of a drive is it?" Clarice asked, buckling in behind James in the driver's seat.

"Under two hours," Maria replied.

"Why?" John asked with concern laced through the single word. He'd been there as she freaked out on the plane so his worry was perfectly valid.

"Nothing serious," Clarice assured all of them. "I'm just a little hungry."

"Good, I'm starving," James said, pulling into traffic. "Mickey-D's then home."

Clarice wasn't big on McDonald's but some hashbrowns would be tasty. John reached across the seat and held her hand as they drove and as the interrogation of questions from the Proustars started.

Clarice took them all in stride. Slowing coming back to herself, she filled the cab with long, breathless stories connected to every question that was asked and asked a few of her own.

By the time they pulled to a stop at John's childhood house, Clarice had pretty much forgotten her previous anxieties about meeting John's family. It was just as Sonia said: they were just people, it wasn't like she was meeting the queen or something.

John grabbed their suitcases from the trunk and Clarice followed James and Maria inside. It was a nice, cozy house, and the third person from the photo in John's office rose to greet them with the help of an ornately carved cane.

Maria spoke quickly in Athabaskan and then introduced Clarice. "This is John's grandfather, Henry."

"Hi," Clarice said with a bright smile, shaking his hand.

"Welcome. Our home is yours for the time being."

"Thank you," Clarice said before getting distracted by John and James bickering like teenagers. She couldn't help herself and walked closer to where they were blocking the hallway next to the kitchen. "What's going on? I mean, I'm impressed to hear John arguing like this and kind of want it to continue but I'm not sure it's quite in the holiday spirit."

John rolled his eyes at his brother and placed his suitcase on the floor. "James doesn't want to give up his room for us."

"You always sleep on the couch when you visit!" James exclaimed.

"We can't both fit on the couch."

Maria appeared. "James! I told you before. You're on the couch." She pinched his arm. "You're twenty-five and arguing with your brother about a  _bed_."

Clarice stifled a laugh with her hand and eventually followed John down the hall to the room behind the kitchen.

"That was…interesting." She glanced around the room. Small, and obviously it had been picked up recently. Clean, folded sheets sat on the mattress, ready to be put on.

"We were born a decade apart so we shared this room somewhere in the middle. It was mine first, then ours, then I left and James got used to his own space, I guess." John set their bags down and moved over to the bed. He looked over at her and she stepped over to help him.

"I get it," she said with a shrug, grabbing one side of the fitted sheet. "I like my own space."

John shook his head. "He should be thankful Mom lets him live here still."

Clarice frowned and tucked in her side before glancing over at the cracked open door. She didn't want to overstep any boundaries, but she fully closed the door before coming back. "This is like the worst time to ask this, but where is your dad?" She said it slowly and softly, wondering which of the two terrible options it would come down to.

John hesitated and then he shook out the sheet. "He died," he said after a moment. "There was a car accident. James was fifteen. I was overseas."

Having first hand experience at how close the Proudstars appeared to be, Clarice could imagine how hard that must have been on each of them individually. "I'm sorry," she said, because she didn't know what else to say.

He gave her a small smile and tucked in his side of the sheet and grabbed the blanket to toss over it. "It's always a hard thing, but we keep going."

She mirrored his smile and walked over to him, resting her head against his chest and hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her and they stood there in quiet contentment until James banged on the door and startled them apart.

"Get out here! Mom needs help in the kitchen."

Clarice quirked an eyebrow and looked up at John.

He just sighed and shook his head. "You'll probably spend half our time here cooking. Fair warning."

"It's not fair if you tell me this when I have no chance of escape. We both know I suck at cooking. That's why we always get take-out!" she hissed as he gently took her arm and guided her out of the room.

"It'll be fine," John insisted.

She protested but composed herself once her feet hit laminate kitchen floors. She pasted on a smile. "What can I help with? I promise I will do my best not to burn down your home."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarice spent the rest of the day on her feet, cooking, getting tours of the house paired with long stories for every photograph she came across. It got dark, and she got tired, but continued helping to cook dinner.

She wasn't used to family in the way that everyone else was used to family. She could only attempt to grasp the concept of blood relatives, of growing up around the same people caring about you. She saw it even between John and James, though they were almost always butting heads like two young bulls. James, however, warmed up to her by the time they were all crowded around the dining room table.

Throughout the day, the Proudstars had slipped. Henry most of all, calling through the house in a tongue that very few people understood any more. Clarice enjoyed it, hearing the ease at which the younger Proudstars intermixed English when there were no appropriate words in Athabaskan, even if she had no idea what they were talking about. It made her think about when she was a teenager, trying to teach herself Korean using shoddy internet websites and books in the library. It hadn't gotten far but the only thing she  _could_  do was read Hangul, to which she read the note she'd been left with as a baby more times than she cared to admit. The paper was so fragile now from being folded and unfolded that she didn't touch it anymore.

She pushed all of that aside as the food was passed around the table and everyone dug in.

"So, Clarice, where is your family?" Henry asked.

She glanced at John, who squeezed her knee under the table. "I don't have one," she said. It used to upset her a lot, especially when she was young and she watched the other kids go to their forever homes while she was just passed along to the next open bedroom. But now, she understood, she accepted and moved on with her life. She created her own family.

Most people didn't understand that and they always gave her sympathetic looks. Like the ones that Maria and Henry gave her now.

She sucked in a breath. They'd been so kind to her all day, letting her stay in their home and everything, she felt like they deserved to hear a little bit more. "I grew up an orphan and never found my birth parents. I was never adopted so I don't have a family per say. I do have a few friends who I've known for…god, it's been a long time. They're my family."

Lorna and Marcos and Aurora had done a Chrismukkah thing, Sage was in Tennessee with Shatter's family still, and Sonia…well she was buying herself jewelry and probably watching  _BIG_  right about now, Zingo curled on the couch next to her. And here was Clarice, away from them, but surrounded by people. It was weird, but she had to face the facts that they were all growing up and going their own ways. Holidays were about family, and family was more than just the handful of them.

James broke the emotional impact of the moment. "So you're here instead? Gotta say, you're best gift John's brought home in a while."

"Does John give bad gifts?" Clarice asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I don't," John interjected.

"Terrible," James said, shaking his head and shoving a forkful of food in his mouth to hide the smile creeping up on his face.

"I dunno," Clarice said, coming to John's aid. "He brought me here this year. Feels like a pretty great gift."

"Like I said," James jabbed in the air with his fork, "this is the exception."

John rolled his eyes.

Clarice nudged him with her elbow. "You have to admit, I'm pretty great company."

"And modest to boot," Henry said with a chuckle.

Clarice shrugged a slender shoulder. She lifted her glass to her lips and took a sip. The rest of the night consisted of more food, cleaning from the day's work, a loud but friendly card game and it finally settled with half-formed plans for the rest of their two days there.

Once the house settled down into silence and quiet, Clarice dealt with the jolt of anxiety that came with  _sleeping with John_. They hadn't done overnights yet and while she knew it would be solely sleeping, it was still a big step. She was very much accustomed to her own bed, her own space. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, makeup-less after a type of day she wasn't used to. Surrounded by family, by history, by people who didn't have to be convinced to like her.

Shaking her head, she turned off the light and plunged herself into darkness. Berating for leaving her phone in her bag, she felt with her hands as she walked into the hall. She stubbed her toe on the corner of the open door to the bedroom and hissed out a curse.

"Y'alright?" James's disembodied voice came from two yards away.

"Yeah," she whispered in the general direction of the couch. "'Night."

Inside the room, John turned on the lamp and squinted in the light. "You okay?"

Fear clamped down in her chest and she flicked the switch on the wall to turn off the light again. "I'm fine," she said, shuffling forward until she got to mattress. She perched on the edge. "So this is a first."

"You've never slept before?"

She eased herself under the covers, lying stiffly on her back, clutching the blanket in her hands. "You know what I mean."

John shifted next to her and she felt his hand rest on her belly above the covers. "Is this too fast for you?" he teased. "We can slow down. I can go sleep in the truck."

She laughed lightly. "No, it's nice. We can properly cuddle now." Her eyes adjusted to the dark and she could see the vague shape of his face, propped up on his hand, looking down at her. She reached up a hand and rested it against his neck before leaning up to kiss him. "Good night."

His breath caught in his throat like he was going to say something but changed his mind. "Good night," he said finally.

A few minutes of shifting around later and Clarice was curled against his back, the big spoon to his little spoon. She tucked her arm under her head under her pillow and pressed a kiss to the back of his neck before dozing off.

Or, she tried. She stayed still, willing herself to sleep until she was sure John had fallen asleep, his breathing deep and slow and rhythmic. She rolled onto her back and willed herself to sleep again, but anxiety made her fingers tingle. She tried going to sleep for an hour or two until she felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin. Instead, she eased herself out of bed, pulled on the lone pair of sweatpants that she brought with her, grabbed her phone and tiptoed outside, careful not to wake up James. She shoved her feet into her boots and her arms into the canvas jacket that John always wore and had brought with them, and walked outside.

She walked off the porch and closer to the truck. She clutched her phone in her hand, staring at the bright screen. There was one measly line of reception and her data was nonexistent. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, in her ears. The street around her was silent and dark. She stood there in the frigid desert night, her ears the first to feel the biting cold.

She crossed her arms and leaned against the trunk. It was nearly three in the morning, and far too early for Sonia to be awake with the three hour time difference, but she sent a desperate text anyway, not sure if it would even send.

 _SOS_.

Sage would understand more than Sonia, but once again, Clarice was putting her friends before herself. She shoved her hand under her arm, still holding the phone that was struggling to send the message. Her breath made little puffs in the air until she cooled down enough for her air to be just as cold as outside.

She should go in and warm up, but that would mean probably waking up James, if not the entire house. Maybe she'd take John's joke and just sleep in the truck. Just as a shiver tore through her like a seizure, she heard the front door open, the soft yellow light on the porch showing her John. He was in sweatpants and a hoodie that looked a bit too small and probably belonged to James because she'd never seen it before and he wasn't a hoodie type.

"What're you doing out here?" he asked, his words once again laced in concern. He pulled his hands out of the front pocket and rubbed her upper arms. His eyes glanced over her face—makeupless—and he rubbed a warm thumb gently over the skin under her right eye.

"A bad idea at twenty," she explained the sharp, talon-shaped scar under her eye. "I decided trying white ink on my face was a smart move. The ink disappeared and now I just have… _this_." The scar was a bit darker than the rest of her skin and a bit redder and was the sole reason why she never left the house without foundation. "I cover it up so people don't think I was in a prison gang or something."

He frowned, not at her story, but at her face, her shaky tone, everything about her that screamed  _something is wrong_. "Are you freaking out again?" he asked, his words gentle. "Like when I asked if we could go slow?"

She drudged up just enough sass to give him _a look_. "I did  _not_  freak out." Pause. "Okay, I freaked out a little bit."

He nodded, the ghost of a smile on his face. "What's going on? Talk to me." He shoved his hands back together into his front pocket. She'd stolen his jacket; he must be freezing.

She looked at him, his kind face, his childhood home illuminated behind him, the entire day replaying in her mind. She felt that hot tightness build in her throat that was the predecessor to tears. "You're just so… _good_."

He didn't say anything, which was a good thing because if he had, she wasn't sure if she'd have been able to continue.

"You come from this amazing family and they all love and care about you. And you've seen shit overseas that no should have to see and you're still just so damn  _good_. You take care of a whole community of kids back home and you deal with all my shit and I just…I don't deserve it. I don't deserve you. You're too good for me."

"Whoa," he said like he was trying to calm an injured wild animal. She took a step back from him. "Where is this all coming from?"

"And you, God, John, you deserve someone so much better than me. I'm all broken pieces and taped together therapy sessions that barely patched me up. I spend every minute of every day worrying about not being good enough, about not being present enough, or engaging enough. With you, with Lorna, with Sage, with Sonia. I have to be  _on_  all the fucking time, or I feel like I'll lose all of you." She clutched her arms around her and her eyes glossed over with tears.

"What if you all stop liking me the moment I become needy?" She gulped down air and shook her head. "My parents didn't want me. No one adopted me when I was a kid. No one  _ever_  wants me. Everyone always gives up on me or doesn't even care enough to begin with." A few tears slid down her cheeks and she released one shaking, clammy hand, extending it toward him but not reaching fully. "I don't deserve to bring you down with all of this shit. You're the greatest person I've ever met. And the second I turn myself off…what if you leave me, too?" A sob built up in her throat and she coughed to cover it up, tilting her head down and away. She couldn't look at him anymore, even if he was just a blurry shadow thanks to the tears.

"Hey, hey." He stepped forward and found no resistance. Slipping his hands around her face, he brushed the cold tears from her cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere."

"People say that all the time," she protested, keeping her arms locked around herself. She blinked and more tears fell.

"Clarice, I'm not going anywhere," he repeated, making sure to catch her gaze and hold onto it. "Okay? I know you probably won't believe me right now, but I'm not going to leave you. As hard as that might be for you to believe."

"But—"

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Then I'm staying. All right?"

She nodded, a bubble of emotion bursting in her chest. He pulled her toward him and cradled her against his chest and she slowly uncrossed her arms and clung to him, letting herself cry and rid herself of all the  _shit_  speeding through her mind like a bad acid trip. Except there was no getting away from this. It was always there, hovering below the surface.

They stood out there until both of them were shivering and Clarice couldn't feel her face. Finally, he pried her away and didn't say a thing about what she'd said, but wiped her face with his sleeves and took her hand.

"Let's go back inside."

She nodded and followed quietly. James mumbled something on the couch but he could have just been talking in his sleep. They got back to the bedroom and closed the door and flicked on the light. John rubbed his hands together and pulled off the hoodie but kept the pants on, crawling into the bed. Clarice joined him without the jacket and they cuddled close until twenty minutes past and they stopped shivering.

They lay there in the light until Clarice spoke.

"I miss Christmas," she said. "I know it's already passed, but I felt like I missed it this year. I always go with the girls to that place in Atlanta that's all done up in lights and we have cocoa and take photos like we're fifteen again."

John squeezed her gently and kissed her neck just below her ear because it was all he could reach. "I'll take you to the city tomorrow. We can find some lights. It's only been a day, I'm sure they're still gonna have light shows."

She twisted just a little so she could see his face. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Thank you." She didn't need to say that she was thanking him for more than just him humoring her for Christmas. The only time she'd laid all of that shit out in front of anyone was a therapist and Sage once when she was drunk in senior year and had tipped over the edge. She felt lighter somehow, but knew they'd have to talk about some of the shit she spouted before she buried it again.

He nodded again and she turned off the lamp and rolled over, burying her face against his shirt and closing her eyes. She focused on breathing and finally fell asleep for real this time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Clarice woke the next morning feeling lighter than before. She was a little groggy from the very few hours of shut-eye she actually got, but it was hard to keep sleeping when she could smell breakfast wafting into the bedroom. She cracked her eyes open and squinted into the unfamiliar space. John was still next to her, but he was fully awake, sitting up against the headboard and checking something on his phone.

"Hey," she said in her croaky morning voice.

"Hey," he echoed, putting the phone down as she struggled to sit up, running hands through her magenta hair and stifling a yawn.

"I feel like I could sleep for a week," she mumbled, rubbing her face.

"You gonna be okay today?" he asked.

She thought about it. It was surprisingly easy to bounce back from mental breakdowns (or so she always told herself) and she really did want to enjoy the rest of the time here before they went back to the real world and were forced to face the consequences of all of the things she'd said.

"I'll be fine," she said, and for once, the words were one hundred percent true.

He nodded and checked the time on his phone. "I think Mom wants to give you a history lesson around town today, but I'll make sure we leave for Phoenix early enough to see the lights."

She brightened up and leaned forward to give him a small kiss.

He caught her face in his hands and studied her face in the light leaking in from the window.

"Do you like your girlfriend looking like she's from a prison gang?" Clarice asked.

"Girlfriend?" He arched an eyebrow. The word had just kind of slipped out but Clarice liked the way it sounded so she didn't immediately backpedal and neither did John. "Why'd you keep this a secret from me?"

She shrugged. "Don't take it personally, I keep it a secret from  _everyone_." She slowly pulled his hand away from her face and got to her feet, stretching her arms above her head. Thankfully they'd warmed up enough overnight for her joints and muscles to not be too stiff from the evening out in the cold.

"Fair enough," he said, respecting her life choice when it came to her  _face_ —she had a momentary lapse of judgment that lasted just about her entire year of being twenty, but this was the only bad decision that lingered and lasted all this time. He got out of bed too and stretched before leaving her alone with her compact to go check on breakfast.

Clarice joined the Proudstars once she'd dusted enough concealer and powder over her face to cover the mark and no one was the wiser.

John had been right though. After breakfast and a leisurely chat in the living room while cupping warm mugs, Maria nearly pushed Clarice out the door. She was grateful for the excuse to show off the historic sights and museums around Camp Verde, and Clarice would be lying if she said it wasn't fascinating to learn more about John's ancestors. It was apparent to her that he was very in touch with his Apache heritage and the more she learned, the more she felt like she learned about him. John came with, James went off to work and when they left the house, Henry was still there.

Clarice shoved a beanie over her hair and put on her thickest sweater, which was all she needed once the sun came out and warmed the ground. The desert was naturally barren, especially compared to Atlanta, but it had its own sort of beauty to it that Clarice could learn to appreciate if she spent more time here.

After lunch and a barrage of embarrassing childhood tales about John, Clarice and John left for Phoenix.

She paused at the doorway to the bedroom and found him shoving some stuff into a smaller bag. "Share with the class?" she prodded.

He glanced up at her. "I figured we'd stay in the city for the night instead of driving back at midnight. Is that okay?"

"Is it okay with your family?" Clarice asked, not so silently thrilled about staying in a hotel. She loved hotels. If she could live in hotels she would, but she didn't have a limitless income.

"Yeah. We still have almost the whole day tomorrow before the flight."

"A mini vacation on my vacation?" Clarice pretended to ponder it before a grin spread across her face. "Yes please."

Fifteen minutes later, Clarice was engulfed in a hug from Maria, the older woman telling her to enjoy the city. Clarice told her she was really just in it for the lights and cocoa before they climbed into a small, compact car that belonged to a neighbor.

"We're just taking someone else's car?" Clarice asked, feeling weird sitting in a stranger's car. Which was kind of ironic considering her primary mode of transportation was Lyft.

"James has our truck, there are plenty of people around to offer a lift if they need it. It's fine."

"And this car?"

"Janie doesn't leave her house, it's a wonder she has a car at all," John assured her.

Clarice trusted him enough to shrug and settle into the seat. It was cold in the cab but it warmed up quickly once they were on the road. They talked about non-essential things, mostly Clarice filling the space with various holiday stories from college years. Lots of parties, lots of drunk shenanigans…one Halloween, she, Lorna and Sage even broke into an old boarded up asylum and swore they saw ghosts. Clarice had freaked out but Lorna insisted they walk through the whole place. By the time they climbed out a half-broken window, even Sage had been shaking and promptly puked on the lawn. Clarice had nightmares for a week and a lingering hangover that she always attributed to a disturbed ghost getting back at her for disrupting their casual haunting.

She was brimming with stories, and it made the hour and a half fly by. It was just getting dark when they reached the outskirts of the city. It was so flat that she could see all of the tall buildings clustered in the center of Phoenix while they just passed into the suburbs.

"Hotel first?" John asked.

"Ugh, yes. I need to shower before I can enjoy Christmas cheer," Clarice said, eyes glued outside, watching as dusk settled across the landscape.

Twenty minutes later they were hiking up stairs—John insisted they take the stairs to stretch their legs after the long drive—and Clarice dropped wearily onto the overly tall, overly thick motel mattress with an equally over-fluffy duvet.

He didn't share her pity, but laughed at her and grabbed the hand she extended toward him feebly. Instead of letting her yank him down to the bed, he pulled her to her feet. "C'mon, we didn't come to the city to sleep."

Clarice arched an eyebrow and gave him a very suggestive look. "Oh?"

He couldn't help but to smile and shook his head a little. "Dinner, lights, festivities, remember?"

"Ah yes, that." She grabbed the bag they both had shoved a night's worth of things into and took it into the bathroom with her. It was a nice bathroom and thank god the water pressure was as good as it was. It helped wash away last night; she still swore she felt a chill deep in her bones from standing outside. Who knew it could be sixty out during the day but get so damn cold once the sun disappeared.

She checked her phone when she stepped out, enjoying the steam. Sonia had replied to her previous night's texts with multiple ones of her own, freaking out. Not wanting to take up too much time, Clarice quickly typed out a reply to calm her down.

_False alarm. Christmas jitters. I'M FINE!_

She set the phone down and got dressed and spent a good half hour half-drying her hair with a tiny hairdryer before braiding it and putting on a thin layer of makeup. Even if John didn't mind, she wasn't quite ready to go out in public without that safety blanket.

She flicked on the fan and opened the door just as Sonia replied with a photo of Zingo and encouraging words.

Clarice found John sitting on the edge of the bed, flicking through channels. The sneaky guy had already showered at his house while it was Clarice's turn to do the dishes that morning after breakfast. She hadn't minded; Maria and her chatted the entire time.

"Ready?" he asked, glancing up at her. She hoped he wasn't getting accustomed to her dressed-down self, because as soon as they were back home she was going back immediately to her full ensembles and high heels.

"Do you know where we're going?" she asked, dropping the bag on the table under the mirror near the door.

"Yeah. Depends on whether you want to sit in the car or walk around." He got to his feet and stood in front of her, taking her hands gently in his and lacing their fingers together.

"Walk. Definitely."

He tilted his head to the side. "You just complained about the stairs."

"That's  _different_." She rolled her eyes and squeezed his hands before letting go.

"Glendale it is. It's not far from here." He pulled on his jacket and they walked outside again. He let them take the elevator down this time.

They headed to the car and grabbed pizza on the way. Then it was to the west to Glendale, where the historic district was completely lit up. They found somewhere to park and hiked in. John didn't make fun of Clarice's obsession with the Christmas cheer and her multiple photographs. He watched her with the same sort of expression she was familiar with when she watched him getting involved with the big events he was hosting for kids at his community center.

They walked and walked until they'd seen every light twice and all of the carbs from the pizza had been successfully turned into useable energy. By the time even John was getting tired, they headed back.

Clarice curled up in the seat, blissful warmth blossoming in her core and spreading through all of her. She had tried to convince herself that she could deal without Christmas this year—excluding Christmas day where she helped John and his staff with the toy drive for all the kids who didn't normally get presents—but it wasn't true. She loved Christmas. As a kid, it sort of sucked, but once she hit college, that changed. It was an easy time of the year to feel a connection to the people she considered family. Making a mental note not to skip out next year, she let herself imagine that she and John would be together in a year's time and wondered if they'd come back here or if they'd start doing an every other year sort of thing.

"You okay over there?" John asked, glancing over at her.

She smiled lazily at him. "Very okay. Thank you. That was just what I needed."

"Merry delayed Christmas."

"Only by two days. Does that really count?"

"I don't know. Does it?"

"No." She chuckled and shook her head. "Are you feeling the holiday spirit, John?"

"It's a little hard not to."

"I definitely have a sexy elf costume in my closet at home. I should have brought it with me."

He laughed and shook his head. "To my parents' house? How about no."

She snickered. "Right. Probably not my best idea."

"Creative but dangerous."

She grinned as he pulled into a spot at the hotel. "That's my two core personality traits."

"I know," John said smugly, getting out of the car. She didn't move from her place and he walked over to her side. Popping the door open, he leaned inside. "Are you going to make it?"

"I'm not sure. Are you gonna make me walk up the stairs?" She pouted, just a little.

"Not this time."

"Good." Heaving herself out of the car, she was thankful for her choice in flat boots for the trip and slid her arm around his back, using him for most of her support as they walked into the hotel.

"You look drunk."

"I wouldn't mind that. Does our fridge have nips?"

"No," John scoffed. "Those hotels are like hundreds of dollars a nights. Do you think I'm made of money?"

"No, you're made of very nice hair and very nice muscles, obviously. I'm the one made of money." She flicked the end of her braid over her shoulder as they slouched against the wall in the elevator.

"You wear your money."

She straightened up and grinned. "Thank you for noticing."

With arms around shoulders and backs, they walked unevenly to their room and finally managed to find a key between the two of them to get inside.

"Can you get drunk off LEDs?" Clarice asked, leaning against the wall and pulling her boots off.

"Apparently, with the way you're acting."

She glared across the room at him as it plopped down in one of the seats by the window to pull off his shoes. Once her feet were free, she climbed onto the bed and flicked on the television. They were still showing Christmas movies, and she absently turned one of them on before scrolling through her phone.

Sonia must have told the others what happened, because she had a whole slew of group messages from Lorna and Sage. Photos mostly. Sage with Shatter on a hayride on a tractor. Lorna and Aurora in matching onesies in front of a tree. Zingo sniffing a big plastic reindeer while out for a walk. Lorna, Marcos and Lorna dressed up to go somewhere where fancy dress was required. A large group shot of Shatter's family and pets, and Sage tossed into the mix, all wearing Santa hats.

It made her heart swell and she sent back a few photos of the lights and her and John in front of palm trees and cactus strung with lights. There were a slew of  _WE MISS YOU_  texts and then she silenced and plugged in her phone.

The movie continued playing in the background, but she was feeling on the verge of drunk so instead of sitting there and watching it, she banged on the bathroom door. "What're you doing in there?"

John wrenched the door open, toothbrush in his mouth, stripped down to a t-shirt and underwear. He raised his eyebrows at her.

She smiled thinly and ducked inside the room to grab her own toothbrush. She very blatantly looked him up and down. And up and down. And maybe a third time before he shook his head and walked out of the room, only to return for a brief moment to use the sink.

"You're terrible," he said, jabbing his toothbrush in her direction.

She mumbled through her mouthful of toothpaste and toed the door shut so she could pee. As she scrubbed her back molars, she debated taking her makeup off now or waiting until she was actually ready to sleep. It was kind of nice to feel her face free of chemicals for a little bit that morning, so she finished brushing and washed her face and stripped to her tanktop and panties and flicked off the bathroom light.

"Are we going to sleep?" she asked. "It's like…"

"Nearly midnight," John interjected.

"It's eleven thirty. Don't you stay up late for  _The Underground_?"

"Yes, I do, and that's why I prefer to go to bed earlier than four in the morning if I can help it."

She made an accepting noise and turned off the tv before crawling into bed. He had removed his shirt before getting under the covers. She stared because she couldn't help it. They were on the  _slow_  path, which meant that she'd only managed to get him out of his shirt briefly one time and it hadn't lasted long before he scampered off.

Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she decided it was  _Christmas_  so she may as well try her hand. With grace garnered from many excursions in tiny twin dorm room beds, she pushed back the blankets just enough to quickly straddle him, her knees sinking into the mattress on either side of him.

"Hey," she said, linking her hands behind his neck.

"Hi," he said, not quite as confused and startled as she'd expected him to be.

She dropped her eyes from his eyes to his arm. "I like seeing my handiwork on you," she said, moving her hand to brush over the dark ink fully healed on his arm.

"It's good handiwork," John murmured, resting his hands on her hips.

They'd made out countless times, but this was the least amount of clothing they'd had on in doing so. Clarice's heart beat out a happy rhythm and leaned in to kiss him, pressing him back gently against the pillows and the headboard. When they finally came up for air, she pulled her torso back from his and slid one of her hands down to rest on his chest.

"This isn't too fast, is it?" she asked, searching his face. Lord knows she'd been patient for three months, but she recently decided that she could wait longer if he needed to. Because this was  _John_  and if her freak out last night had anything to do with her feelings for him, she wanted him around for a long time.

He shook his head, half closing his eyes and sliding one of his hands along her jaw. "It's just fast enough," he murmured before kissing her, long and hard.

She made a startled noise in the back of her throat, but leaned into him again, running her hands through his hair at his neck and parting her lips. With a tiny gasp, he moved to kiss her neck and her eyes fluttered closed. "Are you sure?" she asked, voice small and breathless.

He made a conflicted growl noise against her throat.

Clarice's body yelled at her but she pushed him back gently by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "John."

"Clarice."

"Don't let me blind you with Christmas if you don't want to do…this."

"I never said I didn't want to sleep with you. I just wanted to get to know you better first."

"Oh." She settled back down against his thighs. "Do you know me better now?"

He studied her face with those dark, intense eyes. "Yes."

The moment stretched out between them. Clarice finally broke it. "Thank god," she muttered, leaning into him again and kissing him full force. In seconds, they'd tangled their arms up both trying to strip her shirt off, which only resulted in getting the thin strap tangled in her hair. A momentarily pause to successfully unwind her hair from the metal fastener and John grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down onto the mattress under him. She yelped, which quickly transitioned into laughter.

He kissed her all over and his hands roamed over her skin and she dug her nails into his arms for a little tiny bit of satisfaction before she had to ask him to tie his hair back because it kept getting in the way.

John frantically searched for a band as Clarice twisted over onto her stomach on the bed to laugh at him—at this whole situation actually—until he found one and tied it at his neck.

"I shoved a condom in the bag," she said the second he'd dropped his arms. She pointed and waited.

"When…when did you do that? Where did it even come from?"

"I never travel without one," Clarice said with a shrug and a grin. "And there  _is_  only one, so don't break it."

"Did you plan this?"

"Not at all."

He shook his head and moved around to the other side of the bed. She rolled over onto her back and let out a small squeal when he grabbed her feet and pulled her closer to the edge.

"This definitely would have been better with the elf costume," she pointed out as she did little to help him remove her panties.

He snorted a laugh and crawled back onto bed, discarding his last bit of clothing and joining her half-on and half-under the covers. "Is that something you're gonna force me to try in the future?" he asked, propping himself up on one arm, the other sliding down her small ribcage.

"We'll have to see next year," she said with a tilt of her head before she dragged him down to kiss her again. She was typically a much more hands on person, but this felt…different. It wasn't just gonna be a quick thing followed by her getting hastily dressed and getting a Lyft home. She didn't mind the newness of it and John didn't seem to mind how things were going either.

They kissed and kissed until she could barely feel her lips anymore and she dug her nails into his lower back. He fitted his hips between her thighs without any hiccups and there was a momentary pause where she lay there, her hair fanned out around her, dark against the white sheets and it looked like he wanted to say something like last night but instead he gave a shake of his head and pushed inside of her.

Above her, he closed his eyes with an exhale of breath and a look of pure ecstasy that made her wriggle a bit in place, grab his hips and pull him deeper. He let out some kind of curse word that didn't quite make it to her ears but she didn't care either way. Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him again and they slowly started to move, all hands and hips in an overwhelmingly powerful full body experience.

It wasn't crazy, fast or hard or anything on that end of the spectrum. It was the closest to  _making love_  than Clarice had ever had in her entire life and she'd be lying if she said it didn't make the sex feel like an entirely new adventure. She even managed to roll out a slow, tingling orgasm along with him that left her breathless and sweaty and  _confused_  but in the best sort of way.

She took in and let out deep, exaggerated breaths once he lay beside her, the colder air in the room attacking their bodies. "Well," she said, putting a hand to her forehead.

"Yeah," he breathed out.

She let her other arm fall to the side, his heart beating faster than she thought humanly possible under his ribs. With effort, she rolled onto her side and perched her head in her hand. "You okay there, soldier?"

"It's…been a while."

"You haven't lost your touch," she smirked. "I mean, I'm guessing. Hell, you may have gotten better and I wouldn't be the wiser."

He half smiled and laughed airily. He put one hand against her face and took in a single deep breath. "You're beautiful."

"Thanks, but you're supposed to say that  _before_  the sex," she teased. She leaned down and kissed him before he could protest. Both of them were too breathless for it to last long and when she pulled away he got up to shuffle to the bathroom and Clarice flopped back on the mattress.

She stretched her arms above her, hanging off the bed as she heard the water run. "Is it too soon to call this a Christmas miracle?" she called.

"I don't celebrate Christmas," he poked his head out of the room and reminded her.

She shrugged a shoulder and settled into her own little headspace when she heard the fan and shower turn on. She thanked her body for the endorphins which left her floating somewhere in bliss-land, rather than dragging her down to anxiety-ville. She felt positively  _giddy_  with a mixture of confusion about the depth of her feelings for John in the midst. It wasn't a bad mix; it was normal, and for once Clarice was willing to just accept it as is.

She liked keeping this moment a quiet thing between them, and didn't do what she normally did, which was rate the guys she slept with and send her results to the girls. Shaking her head, she got to her feet and leaned against the high mattress until her thighs stopped quivering before waiting outside the bathroom for a minute or two until John pulled the door open. His hair was dripping and he had one of the three remaining towels around his waist.

"Hiya," she said with a smile.

He leaned down and gave her a kiss. "The water's warmed up for you."

"You know," she stepped into the steamy room and leaned against the doorframe, "we could have just showered together."

"Because that would have ended well," John mused.

"It  _could have_!" she trilled before shutting the door and quickly showering away the sweat and sex, leaving her hair successfully dry by the time she stepped out. Drying off, she stepped back into the room. John was in bed again, this time laying down and not sitting. He was mostly above the covers. "Why are you wearing  _clothes_?"

"I like sleeping in clothes," John said, shrugging.

She rolled her eyes and joined him, fully nude, pushing the duvet away but sliding under the sheet. She kept one leg out, the one covered in her tattoo, from her ribs to the top of her foot.

He noticed, eyes taking in what he could see of the ink from his viewpoint. He leaned a little closer and ran his hand from behind her knee to her waist. "Are you finally gonna tell me about this?"

Clarice glanced up at the ceiling in mock thought. "I guess you  _have_ earned it." She rested a hand against his bare chest for a moment before she let the sheet drop from around her abdomen. "So, I told you about being dropped off at a church with a piece of paper," she said, drudging up shit from her past she'd rather forget, but it was important to her story. "It said my name on it, but also other stuff. It was in Hangul, which is the Korean written alphabet. I couldn't read it, and it took a long time for anyone to be able to translate it. I grew up knowing I was Korean but it wasn't like a nice Korean family came and adopted me." She frowned but continued.

"Anyway, I got older and I started teaching myself how to read Hangul so that I could read the note that came with me as a baby. And I also learned a lot about Korean culture. I spent a lot of time at libraries and I learned some…fairy tales I guess you could call them. In one of them, there is a creature who appears as a nine-tailed fox under the light of the moon, and a beautiful woman otherwise. She's called a  _gumiho_ , a demonic spirit who eats the livers or hearts of men, depending on the tale."

John arched his eyebrows. "Dark."

"I wasn't a flowers and rainbows kind of girl. Anyway, the tales vary here and there, so when I got into art at college, I started planning this whole thing. It tells a story, from here," she touched her ribcage and then wiggled her toes, "to there. My own version of the story."

John scooted closer so he could see all of it as she spun her tale for him.

"There was once a beautiful girl who was the daughter of an important man. Her marriage to the prince would be so influential that her father locked her up in a tower all of her life so she wouldn't be spoiled by the men of the village. She grew up in the tower, and when she was finally let out to marry the prince, she was dutiful and did as she was told. She married the prince, but she never loved him. She did, however, fall in love with the head of the royal guard. He loved her too, but they had to keep it a secret. One night, she was hurrying back to the castle after meeting her lover and some drunk men from the village found her and did horrible things to her. She lay there in the forest under the moon and a spirit in the shape of a fox came to her. It tricked her, saying it could fix her but not telling her the price. She accepted and the fox spirit jumped into her body, transforming her into a demonic woman, but only under the light of the moon. She couldn't remember much of what happened and continued living her life. Killings started happening at night, but she didn't know that it was her doing it. Eventually though, she and the spirit began to bond and she joined it when they went hunting at night. Eventually, the village realized they were being targeted by an evil, and put together a hunting party. At the head of the party was the woman's lover. Long story short, they caught her under the light of the moon and the woman, not wanting to kill any longer, allowed her lover to kill her with a special, magical blade. She died, her body turning into dust and the spirit was released to find another woman to possess."

It was all there: the beautiful girl in a tower, the rich prince, the handsome guard, the broken girl under the moon, the glowing fox spirit, the possessed woman eating a liver, the woman dying in the arms of the man she loved, and lastly, the spirit of the fox with nine tails curling around Clarice's ankle.

"Wow," John said once she was done. "That's…I think that's the longest story attached to a tattoo I've ever heard."

She tugged the sheet back over her as she started to cool down. "Thank you…I think."

"You're welcome." His warm hand settled on the dip of her waist. "Is that whole thing the only tattoo you have?"

"You tell me. You've seen me naked."

"So that's it."

"Most people see me and don't even know, unless I flaunt it. I mean…I flaunt it  _a lot_  but that's beside the point. Your family doesn't know."

"No, they do not. I feel like my mom would like that story though."

"Maybe I'll tell her some day." She sighed and John settled back down on the covers. "I have never been so happy to be in a hotel room."

John twisted around and pushed the switch to turn off the lights, plunging them into soft darkness. "Merry Christmas," he said, sliding under the sheet with her. He tugged her over with a single arm and pulled her back against his front, fitting their bodies together.

"You don't believe in Christmas."

"I do for tonight," he said, sighing against the back of her neck.

They settled against the mattress and Clarice felt a hazy tiredness wash over her. She didn't know where they were headed, but if they kept going  _together_ , that's all that she needed for now from him. They could still go slow, or go fast, or whatever other definition John wanted to tack onto the speed of their relationship. No matter the case, she was all in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psssst. What do y'all think John keeps /almost/ telling Clarice? Hmmmmm. The ~mystery remains~
> 
>  
> 
> PS. Thanks to Gabi for coming up with the "Prudestar" joke.


End file.
